Occult Assassin: Damnation Code (Book 1) Page 2

  “Is someone picking you up, or will you be hailing a cab?” Talon asked his new friend, who had introduced herself as Mrs. Cane.

  “My daughter is supposed to be waiting for me—”

  “Mom!”

  An attractive blonde in her mid-twenties rapidly approached Mrs. Cane. The elderly lady winked at Talon in a conspiratorial manner.

  Someone is trying to play matchmaker, Talon thought.

  There was immediate interest in the daughter’s eyes. Talon’s gray shirt and faded brown leather jacket did little to hide his lean but muscular frame. As a member of 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta, Sgt. Talon was in peak physical condition. His swarthy good looks and easy smile didn’t hurt either. Most people wouldn’t have taken him for an elite soldier, with his longish hair and beard, but special-ops soldiers followed more relaxed grooming standards than rank-and-file military personnel.

  While Mrs. Cane’s daughter was quite lovely, Talon only had eyes for the reporter who’d stolen his heart two year earlier, in Afghanistan. “I see you found your ride. You two have a great day now.”

  Waving goodbye, he merged with the crowd of travelers surging toward the nearest exit. His years of military service had taught Talon to be a minimalist and restrict his luggage to one carry-on bag, and he was able to bypass the crowds.

  He stepped through the automatic doors and reached the adjoining sidewalk. The air outside was hot and thick but felt like a fresh breeze compared to Afghanistan’s arid, blistering desert temperatures.

  It’s good to be back in the States.

  Talon scanned the cabstand and decided to skip the long line. The train station was only a short walk from the United Airlines terminal.

  Soon he was seated on the BART as it rattled toward San Francisco. The airport receded in the distance and residential sprawl took over.

  Once again his mind turned to Michelle. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Those mysterious brown eyes flecked with green. That lush auburn hair and perfect olive complexion. The delicate line of her neck.

  There was no way around it — Talon had fallen hard for the journalist. Despite his initial misgiving about her presence with the unit, he’d quickly realized that Michelle wasn’t what he expected.

  With her looks and brains she could’ve pursued any number of glamorous careers, but she chose to risk her life in the mountains with him and his men. When he brought this up to her, Michelle merely smiled wearily and said that certain stories needed to be told, and certain voices needed to be heard.

  Michelle remained embedded for six more days after the ambush and she proved to have a transformative effect on Talon. He’d mastered the art of disconnecting from the violence and misery that he encountered on a daily basis. Michelle, on the other hand, allowed herself to emotionally respond to the horrors unfolding around her. Her ability to show vulnerability had pierced Talon’s iron guard and reminded him that there was a human heart beating under his own armor.

  It was okay to feel.

  To give a damn.

  In fact, it was necessary, if he didn’t want to end up in the psych ward of some V.A. hospital down the line. He didn’t need to sacrifice his humanity and become a machine to be an effective warrior.

  While they bonded during her time with the unit, most likely their relationship wouldn’t have gone further. But fate seemed to smile upon them. Their paths crossed again in Dubai, when Talon was catching up on some much-needed R&R. Sparks flew and the rest was history.

  Two years later, they now saw each other as often as their demanding careers permitted.

  Talon had dated his fair share of women over the years, but the nature of his grueling work made it difficult for him to get serious with anyone. He could be activated at a moment’s notice and wind up halfway across the globe, in some warzone.

  It took a certain kind of woman to put up with the reality of his profession.

  A woman like Michelle Rossi.

  He touched the ring case in his pocket and took a deep breath. Michelle didn’t know he was coming to San Francisco for a surprise visit, let alone that he was here to propose.

  Talon wasn’t a man prone to nervousness. A decade in the military — five years in the regular Army and then another five in Special Forces — had imbued him with steely discipline and control over his emotions. Danger actually sharpened his focus. Jumping out of airplanes, crossing minefields or battling terrorists was all in a day’s work. Proposing to his girlfriend; now there was something that made him work up a nervous sweat.

  The train pulled into the city. Talon got off at the next stop and headed for the offices of the San Francisco Chronicle. He spotted a flower shop on the way and decided to pick up a bouquet for his sweetheart. No way he’d show up at his girl’s office empty-handed.

  Once inside the store, Talon concluded within seconds that the owner was Persian. Based on his age, the man was probably a refugee from the Iranian Revolution who had come to the States in the ‘70s.

  Talon addressed the man in near-perfect Farsi. “I need flowers for the love of my life. Can you help me out? I barely know the difference between a rose and a tulip.”

  The florist beamed, charmed by Talon’s ability to speak to him in his native language. In lightly accented English, he said, “My friend, I’ll make something real nice for you and your sweetheart.”

  With a magician’s skill, the Persian went to work. Talon followed the man’s quick-moving fingers as they snatched flowers from an assortment of vases. In a matter of seconds he’d produced an arrangement that looked pretty damn impressive, even to Talon’s botanically challenged brain.

  “Thanks, she’ll love these,” Talon said. He paid the Persian and continued on his way. He made another quick stop at a local grocery store and purchased a bottle of wine, a few fancy cheeses and crackers, grapes and some delicious-looking Tiramisu. The plan was to take Michelle on a romantic picnic in Dolores Park, and pop the question before he lost his nerve. He wanted it to be memorable but not overblown, romantic but not saccharine.

  A rush of anticipation fueled his stride as he walked those last few blocks toward Fifth and Mission. He still sported a grin when he stepped through the main entrance of the San Francisco Chronicle. Other businesses had moved into the newspaper’s building. Workers clad in tech-upstart chic shuttled between sparkling water dispensers and rows of Apple computers.

  The newspaper was becoming increasingly isolated in a building they had occupied since 1924. It was a reminder how the economics of news had changed since the dawn of the Internet. According to Michelle, rumors of a move made the rounds as frequently as wacky news tips about the Zodiac.

  Talon entered the front lobby of the Chronicle and winked conspiratorially at the receptionist, signaling that he didn’t want her to ruin his surprise visit. This was going to be good. The pressure of the impending proposal was gone, replaced with growing excitement.

  While crossing the bustling bullpen, he noticed the rugged, worn appearance of the cubicles, and how they formed a sharp contrast to the sleek office space he’d glimpsed on the other floor. The Chronicle wasn’t some well-funded technology enterprise but an old-media bastion struggling to stay afloat in an ever-changing media landscape.

  He homed in on Michelle’s desk. The moment he spotted her, a warm feeling filled his heart. She was scrunched in her Aeron chair, hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and serious eyes riveted to her computer monitor. She was wearing a pair of headphones and talking to a woman on the computer.

  Talon’s last two months had been defined by the hardship of war. Seeing the woman he loved made the dark moments grow distant in his memory and gave him hope for the future.

  Michelle. His girl and, hopefully, soon his wife…

  If he should be so lucky.

  Sensing his approach, Michelle looked up and their eyes met. She stifled her whoop of joy and told the woman she was Skyping with to hold on for a sec. She tore off her ear-buds and rushed to T
alon. Their arms and their lips quickly interlocked. All thoughts took a backseat to the intensity of their fierce embrace. His world reduced to the feel of Michelle’s soft skin, the taste of her breath, and the gentle tickle of her hair. He breathed in her intoxicating scent.

  Michelle was the one who applied the brakes to their building passion, realizing she was still at work. She took a step back and caught half the news office looking away and pretending to be busy with their jobs.

  Talon grinned sheepishly. “Maybe I should’ve given you a heads up...”

  “Maybe we just need to get out of here and find a more private place to celebrate.”

  “Sounds good. Oh, by the way, these are for you.”

  Michelle beamed when Talon handed her the Iranian’s lovely floral arrangement. “Mark, they’re beautiful! Thank you, darling.” She pressed the petals close to her cheek.

  “Let me just wrap up this call and we’ll be on our way,” Michelle said as she turned back to her workstation and donned her headphones again.

  Talon circled Michelle’s desk to gain a visual on the person she was chatting with. Anxiety marred the young woman’s attractive features, her nervous tension palpable. Talon couldn’t quite make out their conversation.

  The screen went dark and Michelle turned toward him. There was a trace of concern in her eyes, but she quickly cast it aside. “All ready. Let’s blow this joint.”

  As they headed down the stairs, Talon asked, “What was that all about?”

  “Just one of my sources.”

  “Cooking up some big new story?”

  “Always.”

  Talon waited for more but Michelle remained mum on the matter. She could be a bit secretive about her work, especially in those crucial early stages when she was still compiling research. Discretion was something else they shared in common.

  Michelle leaned closer and kissed him again and all thoughts of the Skype conversation evaporated. “Hmmm, you smell good for a guy who crawls in the dirt for a living.”

  Talon smiled and held up his grocery bag.

  “Feeling up for lunch in the park?”

  “Hmm, you make it hard for a girl to say no.”

  Hand-in-hand, they stepped out of the building, trailed by both envious and curious glances. The two of them shared something pretty special and someone would have to be blind not to pick up on it.

  Less than an hour later, they were making out in Dolores Park, their hands roaming and exploring as they lay under a tree in the grass. They had barely touched the crackers and cheese. Most of the wine remained in the plastic cups Talon had brought along for the occasion. Anyone passing by would have taken them for a couple of love-struck teenagers.

  “It might be time to get a room,” Michelle joked as she caught her breath.

  Talon nodded a little too fast. He couldn’t wait to ‘get a room’ but there was something else that he needed to do first. Misinterpreting his hesitation, Michelle caressed the stubble on his face. “Is everything okay, babe? If there’s something you need to talk about…”

  Michelle was all too aware of the challenges men like Talon faced. The horrors they confronted on a daily basis. He eyed her deeply and knew the moment had come to be a man. His throat felt dry as spoke. “I brought you here because a) I’m a romantic softie and b) there’s something I want to ask you.”

  He refilled Michelle’s cup with wine and suddenly his hands were shaking. Man, he was acting like some high-school kid out on a first date.

  “I know, wine in a plastic cup, ain’t I a classy guy?”

  “Probably a step up from eating the nasty parts of goats to impress village elders,” Michelle teased.

  “Don’t knock Afghani cuisine. It’ll catch on.”

  Michelle grinned as she sipped her wine.

  Talon had rehearsed his speech for days now, racking his brain for the perfect words. He nervously downed his entire cup of wine and Michelle shot him a surprised look. “You all right?”

  Talon knelt before her in the grass. “You might want to get up for this next part.”

  “Oh my God…” Realization filled her eyes and Talon knew there was no turning back now. He fumbled getting the ring box out of his pocket. Last time he’d felt this nervous was when he’d foolishly decided to take a role in a high school play. Shakespeare wasn’t his friend.

  “Michelle, two years ago I wasn’t happy when I learned some reporter was supposed to spend eight days with my unit. A week later I was a different man playing a different tune.”

  This is so cheesy. His Delta buddies would be laughing their asses off if they could hear him now. It had sounded good in his mind but spoken out loud… Screw it! He was putting it all out there. He meant every word he said and was expressing himself as best he could. He’d never claimed to be a poet.

  Tears welled in Michelle’s eyes as he continued. “The last two years have been the happiest years of my life, despite some of the worst combat I’ve had to endure. Knowing that you’re in my life, Michelle, reminds me what I’m fighting for.”

  Talon took a deep breath and opened the ring case. He’d purchased the ring — a three-diamond in 15K white gold — in New York City’s jewelry district. An old Army buddy turned jeweler helped him pick out something tasteful and beautiful. It was only right that the woman who’d transformed his world receive a ring worthy of her.

  Michelle was both sobbing and giggling now. Talon never got a chance to actually mouth his proposal as she engulfed him in a bear hug. Her kisses and tears spoke louder than words.

  Talon’s heart beat with joy as they headed to Michelle’s rent-controlled townhouse in Mission Bay. The moment they stepped into her place, Talon attacked her and they hit the carpet. Within seconds the clothes had come off in a heady, fumbling rush of animal passion and pent-up emotion. They both shook as they climaxed, soaked in perspiration.

  They laid on the floor, hands and bodies entwined. The problems of the world seemed a million miles away. The blood and dust of the wars Talon was fighting belonged to another reality.

  There was only Michelle and himself. Their bodies. Their passion. Their love.

  They were still recuperating from their lovemaking, sipping beer and snacking on chips when Talon’s phone buzzed.

  Damn it!

  He ignored the call, but whoever was trying to reach him refused to take no for an answer. After the fourth call, his cell vibrated with two incoming text messages. Someone desperately needed to get in touch with him. Not tomorrow, or in an hour, but right now. Cursing under his breath, he pulled away from Michelle.

  “I’m sorry…” He scanned the phone and his face fell.

  “Is it Erik?” Michelle asked with concern. She remembered the sergeant all too well.

  Talon nodded. Michelle’s lipstick and mascara were smeared, her hair tangled. God, she’s beautiful, he thought.

  “He needs your help, doesn’t he?”

  Damn! Talk about perfect timing!

  Judging from the slurred, rambling voicemail and incoherent texts, Erik was having a bad night.

  “He sounds like he’s in bad shape,” Talon said.

  “You think he might hurt himself?”

  Talon shrugged. The Erik he’d served with was a force of nature, a man whose will to fight burned with the intensity of a bright star in its prime. This new Erik was a pale shadow of that man.

  “You should go to him,” Michelle said.

  Talon’s face fell and Michelle cupped his rugged features in her hands. “If something should happen to him, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

  Michelle’s selfless words reminded Talon why he loved her so much. He rose reluctantly and sent Erik a quick text to say that he was on his way. He kissed Michelle and it lingered, almost reigniting their passion. Michelle gently pulled away. “Go help your friend.”

  She handed him her car keys. “I’m parked about five cars down the block. I’ll be here waiting for you when you come back.”

  T
alon gave her an earnest look and said, “Love you.”

  Her smile always knocked his socks off. “I love you too.”

  Once outside, his eyes probed the dark road and spotted Michelle’s car — a red Nissan. The keys jingled in his hand as he walked down the abandoned sidewalk.

  Talon got into the Nissan and slid into traffic. He never noticed the black van with tinted windows, parked across the street from Michelle’s place. He was gone by the time its hoodie-wearing occupants got out and approached his fiancee’s home.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ERIK APPEARED IN the entrance of his rundown Oakland home and a wave of body odor hit Talon’s nostrils. His former commanding officer was a disheveled, stinking mess. Long hair clung to his scalp in greasy clumps and a sagging belly pressed against a belt that had run out of notches.

  Talon entered the house and struggled to hide his shock. Erik’s abode mirrored the sorry state of its broken owner. Fat cockroaches scrabbled among a wasteland of pizza boxes and empty beer bottles.

  “Looking good, old friend,” Erik slurred.

  “The bad guys are keeping me in fighting shape.”

  Erik grinned at that. “Let me get you a beer.”

  As Erik headed for his fridge, Talon once again took in the squalor of his surroundings. “Love what you’ve done with the place.”

  Erik returned with a bottle of Bud and said, “Fuck you too, man.” They toasted and took deep swigs from their beers.

  “Man, thanks for coming over. I nodded off and I was back on that fucking mountain…” Erik’s voice trailed off. A part of him had never left Afghanistan.

  Talon had tried to get through to his former comrade-in-arms on numerous occasions, with little success. His only option left was to be there for Erik during his darkest moments, hoping the man would ultimately find the strength to break free of this terrible downward spiral. For the next two hours, Talon listened to Erik talk about the old days. Good and bad memories competed in his old friend’s mind. It was good to reminisce with someone who’d been there.