Free Operation Zulu Redemption: Hazardous Duty - Part 3 by Ronie Kendig Page B

taking his gaze from Téya and Trace. “I’m telling you, Chandler and Hollister are a waste of time.”
    “How’s that?” Trace seemed agitated. And not necessarily about the Lorings. Or maybe it was.
    Nuala wasn’t sure she trusted her assessments right now since her emotions were too tangled up in the nightmares and the events in the Roma slums. Though she had the same combat medic skills Téya had—they all did, in fact; it was part of their training—Nuala had never put them to use to extract a bullet and sew up someone. Especially not a notorious assassin who’d put their lives in jeopardy.
    “Ballenger,” Mr. Loring said. “You need to talk to Berg Ballenger.”
    Nuala poured two glasses of ice water, her attention trained on the conversation.
    Téya gave a soft laugh. “We met with him in Paris. He blamed HOMe. He basically said Chandler and Hollister were trying to kill him.”
    Loring shook his head and looked at his wife. “Those ladies don’t have it in them to hire a hit man, but I wouldn’t blame them if they had.”
    A commotion to the side drew everyone’s attention and silence. The eight-year-old girl and her brother were arguing under their breath. The girl, Cora, seemed distressed and insistent upon something Charles refused. He caught her hand and whispered something quite harshly to her.
    Nuala slid her gaze to the parents, who watched but hadn’t moved.
    Why isn’t the mother going to her children
?
    Just then, Sharlene Loring rose from her chair and went to the lounge area. She squatted with her back to Nuala and the others. Quiet words were spoken, then Sharlene returned with a weary smile. “They are tired of being on the run, of not having their own space.”
    Back at the table, Nuala handed Mrs. Loring the water, then slid into her own chair.
    Trace’s arms were folded. “Back to Ballenger,” he said. “Why wouldn’t you blame HOMe if they wanted to hurt him?”
    Mr. Loring nodded to his wife, who gave him a reticent look. “Go on,” he said. “Tell them.”
    She hesitated again.
    Trace leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. “Mrs. Loring, I promise we are only after the truth here.”
    “It’s disconcerting,” she admitted, “with the way you’re keeping us here. Won’t allow us to go outside.”
    “My superiors are working on setting up a home for you and your children as we speak,” Trace said. “You will all be safe. You can start over. But we also need whatever you can give us to settle what happened in Misrata.”
    She swallowed and gave Nuala a smile, then Téya. Took a sip of water. Set the glass down. Turned it. Then let her hands rest back in her lap. “It was Berg.”
    Trace—and in fact, all of Zulu—blinked. “What was Berg?”
    “He’s the one who told Miss Hollister about the warehouse.” Sharlene tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave a shaky smile. “I’d been out walking in the small garden outside the building we were being evicted from. When I came back in, I heard them arguing. He told her he’d found a place for us to go till the new permits came through for the other building. But she said she wouldn’t move us to a rundown warehouse in what was basically the slums. He told her there wasn’t a choice and reassured her it was safe.”
    Téya and Trace shared a long, meaningful look.
    Expression taut, Trace got that knotted-up look that clouded his handsome features when he wasn’t happy. Nuala could practically smell the fury burning through him. “You’re sure? You are absolutely sure Ballenger is the one who sent you there?”
    “I am,” Mrs. Loring said.
    “I need to make some calls,” Trace said as he pushed out of his chair. “I’ll find out about your house, but I’m sure we’re going to have more questions.”
    The Lorings gave a mute nod before moving to join their children.
    Nuala and Téya huddled by Houston’s work station. “That was interesting,” Nuala said.
    “Right?” Téya