Page 2 of Croatia Collateral

Dax had deployed during Lana’s first miscarriage. When she’d gotten pregnant a second time, he’d been with her from day one through her second miscarriage, the cancer diagnosis and to her last breath.

His unit had deployed to Afghanistan a few weeks before Lana’s passing. Once Lana was gone, Dax needed to escape everything that had reminded him of her. He’d joined his unit in Afghanistan a month later. Work and a change in location had helped—until the draw-down.

Sick at heart over how the draw-down had been handled, he lost his love for military life.

“I’ll have a dirty martini, shaken, not stirred,” the woman in red said to the bartender in English, bringing Dax back to the present and a bar in Zurich. Though she spoke English, she had the accent of someone from England, not the US.

The bartender added ingredients to a metal cup, capped it and shook it for a full minute. He poured the contents into a martini glass, added an olive and placed the glass in front of the woman.

She lifted the glass to her bright red lips and tasted the concoction. With a brief smile and nod at the bartender, she laid the glass on the counter. “Perfect.” She turned to Dax, her lips spreading in a warm, welcoming smile. “I love a good martini, don’t you?”

He half-turned toward her, meeting her gaze. “I prefer a good beer,” he said, tipping his head toward the half-empty mug.

She lifted her glass to him. “To good drinks, whatever they might be.”

Reluctantly, he lifted his mug and held it up to her glass without saying anything.

She touched the rim of the martini glass to his mug and took a sip.

Dax did the same. He looked over his shoulder toward the door, wondering when Hammer would show. He hadn’t slept on the flight over, so he was tired and wasn’t in the mood for polite conversation, even if the woman was stunningly beautiful.

“Waiting for someone?” the woman asked.

“I am,” he responded.

“Oh, my apologies,” she said. “I won’t bother you.” She lifted her drink and sipped.

Dax glanced at the entrance again. Still, no sign of Hammer. He took another sip of his beer, an awkward silence falling between him and the woman beside him.

“Oh, dear,” she murmured and touched his arm. “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t bother you, but I’ve lost my contact. At least, I think I might have.” She blinked several times. “Sometimes, it slips out of position on my eye. Would you mind looking to see if you can see it?” She turned to face him fully, her hand still on his arm. She tipped her head back and opened her eyes wide.

“Right or left?” he asked, wondering if he’d see anything in the dim lighting. He leaned closer.

“Left,” she said, batting her eyelids before opening them wide again.

“Hard to see in this light,” he said, staring down into her left eye.

“Would it help if I was closer?” she asked, leaning forward until her breasts brushed against his chest.

“I don’t see anything,” he said.

“Keep looking,” she said, her voice a low, insistent whisper. “At least pretend like you are. A couple of gentlemen in the corner to your right have been watching you since you arrived. They’re both still wearing their jackets, though it’s reasonably warm here. I saw a bulge in one man’s pocket. I would lay odds he’s packing.”

Dax froze. The words coming from the woman’s mouth were so incongruous he had to think twice about them before they sank in. When he started to turn his head to look at the corner to the right of him, her hand tightened on his arm.

“For the love of—” She reached out with her other hand and pinched his thigh. “Look at me, not them. They’ll know you’re on to them.”

“Look, lady,” he said.

She blinked rapidly and laughed, the sound light and airy. “There it is. I knew you’d find it.” The woman leaned into him. “They’re getting up. Kiss me.”

“I don’t—” He didn’t get any further.

She flung her arms around his neck and laid those perfect red lips on his.

His hands rose automatically to grasp her waist, intending to shove her back.

“You will come with us,” a man said behind Dax.

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