Avenging Angels (Bad Times Book 3)

on, the backpack swaying in counterpoint to her magnificent behind.
It was her idea to show Lee her country.
The Ranger pictured lazy days on the beach at Dado Zamir and nights barhopping around Tel Aviv. Instead, she picked a week on the Israel National Trail.
It all started as an easy walk along the beach at Netanya, but they turned inland until they were in the forested high country. The mosquitos grew thick, and the stinging nettles grew thicker. Often the trail vanished into the dense trackless brush. Bat just dove in, and Lee had no choice but to follow her, drawn by the vision of those incredible legs fully visible beneath her cutoffs and whipped on by male pride. Here he was a hard-charging former US Army Ranger, and a damned skinny girl was kicking his ass.
She took the lead early and kept it. And each time they emerged from some fresh patch of spiny hell, he looked like he’d been dragged behind a truck for ten miles of bad road. She looked like she was ready to pose for an L.L. Bean catalog shoot.
The forest they moved through was a mad mix of maples, oak, cypress, poplar, and cedar. Bat explained that this forest was planted by the Trees for Israel program started in the 1950s. Jewish school kids from all over the world collected money and saved their pennies to buy saplings to replant the Promised Land. She told him that the north of the country was once carpeted with thick cedar woodlands. But they had been clear cut thousands of years ago to build ships for the Romans. So Jews from all over the world gave their lunch money so that the forests could return and the Galilee could be green once more. Those kids must have knocked on a crap-load of doors, Lee thought, because we’ve been hiking through this for two days with no end in sight.
The woods gave way to a banana plantation, another surprise for Lee. Neat rows of the broad-leafed plants ran over gentle hills under a deep blue sky. It was a country smaller than New Jersey and thinner across in spots than most counties in America, but there was a tremendous variety of terrain and vegetation.
By late afternoon they reached a bluff where they could look back at grids of segmented farmland sloping gently down to the Mediterranean. The sea was visible only as a hazy greenish bar on the horizon. They decided to pitch camp right there to take advantage of a prevailing wind rising up the face of the bluff that cooled the air as the day closed.
They shared a cold meal of tinned salmon and naan bread with butter. Lee insisted on making a small fire to use some of their water to make two mugs of his nasty coffee.
“How do you drink this stuff?” she said, making a yucky face.
“It’s cowboy coffee,” he said.
“Because they used it to kill Indians?”
“Funny.”
They were snuggled in the pop tent. The glow of the dying fire cast shadows over them through the translucent tent fabric. The air was chilling as night fell and Bat wiggled closer.
“What’s your story, cowboy?” she said.
“Well, I’m not a cowboy. I just like their coffee.”
“Well, you’re not a venture capitalist, a web millionaire, or a real estate speculator like you’ve told me the other times I asked about you.”
“I said those things?” Lee said.
“You know, to be a good liar, you need a good memory.” She tapped his lips with a finger.
“I’ll try to remember that. I was going to tell you I won the Powerball next.”
She bopped him on the forehead with the heel of her hand.
“Hey!”
“We’ve been seeing each other over three months and the only thing I know about you is your name. I know you’re ex-military because your tats don’t lie. But I don’t know shit about you beyond that. Money’s not a problem for you and your time is your own except for your mysterious trips to who knows where.”
“We have a good time, right?” Lee said. “And you know I like you.”
“We have an awesome time. You fly us around on chartered jets and spend like a Saudi. You know how to make a girl happy, and you’re good-looking in a rough kind of way.”
“Sucks to be my girlfriend, huh?” he said and tried a smile.
“Is that what I am?” Her expression darkened. “How am I supposed to know that?”
“Hey, you sound like you’re getting serious, Bat.”
“Do I?” It was a challenge.
It was at this moment in every relationship where Lee would begin his exit strategy. He’d duck away at the earliest opportunity to evade that old velvet trap. Something stirred in his gut and he was moving on before he knew it, leaving a broken heart and, usually, a good number of his clothes behind. He was the type to flee without farewells. In his mind, he’d never actually broken up with a woman. It was always just here, just tonight, and gone in the morning.
But not this time. No itch burned in his stomach. He didn’t begin fantasizing his escape. There was no urge to slip away with no forwarding. He really liked Bat and wanted to stay with her for who knew how long. Maybe she was even The One. That struck him as a crazy thought as he’d never considered that The One ever existed. The notion of the perfect girl for Lee was like Big Foot or Santa Claus, a fun idea that never stood up to serious contemplation. Still, no warning jingles from his flight instinct.
Maybe because she was also a combat vet. She knew not to ask questions about that because she wouldn’t want those questions asked of her. And, he admitted, she was a combat vet who was as hot as a swimsuit model.
Besides, stuck in a pop-up tent two days from anywhere was not a great place for the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech.
“I think I deserve the truth,” she