If the Devil Had a Dog

by T. K. Lukas

  CHAPTER 21

  Alpine

  In the early hours before dawn, Markus quietly slipped out of bed, trying not to wake Sidney. He blindly went through the procedures to allow access into his safe-room. Wishing he had a cup of coffee, he sat staring at his computer as it booted up and came to life. He picked up a pencil and doodled stick figures on his notepad before writing in bold letters: WHAT AM I MISSING?

  Pushing the pad aside, he read the email confirming Moose had put a five-man team together. In addition to himself, Moose would be joined by Bradley “Cooper” McClung, Andrew “Cannibal” Donner, Sam “Rocky” Rhodes, and Elwood “Master” Bates. On Markus’s command, Moose and his crew would fly from Virginia to Fort Bliss in El Paso and would be standing by, awaiting further instructions. Once given the command, a Black Hawk helicopter could be setting down at his ranch in a little over an hour.

  Good choices, Moose. Markus smiled as he read the code names of the handpicked team. He knew them well, had worked with each of them on different covert operations, and each of them brought something special to the team.

  Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms behind his head, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Should he go ahead and make the call to bring Moose and his team to El Paso? Doing so would put them four hours closer, and if the situation escalated, four hours could mean the difference between the mission’s success and failure. But, he hated to uproot those men from their families at Thanksgiving if it weren’t necessary. Easing forward, he wrote a reply:

  Tell Moose and his men to standby in place. I’ll notify you when it’s necessary to transition them to El Paso. What’s the status of the background check on Jessica and Rafael Cordoba? Any progress there, or on Winston Knight’s previous divorce settlements and financial situation? Also, what’s the status of the message Sidney wrote to her cousin? Was it delivered—any response? Do you have any information on the Nolan arson or on the murder of Aleck Stavros? Don’t mean to sound impatient, but I’m impatient. Time is of the essence.

  As soon as he clicked the mouse to send the reply, he shot off a follow-up email, suggesting that Jessica and Rafael might be in danger, as well. If Winston were responsible for the arson and/or the hit on Sidney’s attorney, her cousin might be the next target. As a precaution, it would be prudent to assign someone to the Cordobas for their protection.

  Markus shut down the computer, then exited and secured the room. As he stood quietly facing the tapestry, he heard Trevor in the kitchen below talking to Gunner, the microwave beeping, and the gurgling coffee pot brewing. The smell of cookies wafted up the stairwell, and he imagined Trevor heating them up in the microwave. The aroma reminded him of growing up in Boerne, Texas, when his grandmother’s house always smelled of freshly baked cookies, and like Trevor, he would eat them for breakfast.

  Images of his childhood flashed through his mind, the images of home and of family. His mother’s image was indistinct, a filament hardly glowing. She’d died when he was six. The image of his father, Wernher Yeager, glowed brighter. Markus remembered camping and horseback riding with his father, and, learning everything his young mind could soak up about archery, firearms, and other weapons. Although German and English were spoken at home, Wernher encouraged Markus to study Russian and Japanese at school.

  Yet for Markus, as much as he loved and respected his father, it was Otto whom he thought of when he reminisced about home. Otto had always been a part of the family, part of their lives, ever since he and Wernher immigrated to the U.S. from Germany after the second world war.

  Though Markus learned a lot from his father, Otto taught him other life lessons. Rudimentary hand-to-hand combat. How to curse in French and Spanish. The proper way to train the German Shepard dogs his father imported for protection work, speaking the Schutzhund commands in German. The difference between a fine scotch and one that would strip paint.

  It was from that last lesson that Markus ultimately chose his undercover name, Johnny Walker, later shortened to John. No one would suspect he’d go by that name—the least favorite of his favorite scotches. Originally preferring the name Glen Morangie, it was quickly discarded, as anyone who really knew him would suspect it was his undercover ID.

  There had been times when he drank Glenmorangie scotch like some drank tea. After Adina divorced him and moved back to Japan with their infant daughter. After his father died. After Sonja was murdered.

  Don’t go there, he told himself. Yet, his mind was already back in Sarajevo.

  The morning he’d told Sonja he was leaving for an assignment in Dubrovnik and would not be coming back, they’d lingered in bed for hours. Each knew they were making love for the last time. She was lying in his arms, weeping quietly, when Russian hit men stormed his flat.

  Four men overpowered him, while two others held Sonja. He was brutally attacked, yet stuck to his story that he was Jürgen Hoffer, a German government aid worker. Insisting he was the American spy, John Walker, they cut and burned him with knives and cigarettes, slashing and scorching his stomach, back, and genitals. They gagged and then bound him to the bedpost with strands of barbed wire around each shoulder, around his neck, the wire’s barbs puncturing his flesh despite his attempts to not struggle against it. He listened as one man ransacked his kitchen, and then screamed in agony as vinegar was doused on his wounds.

  He was forced to watch as the six men took turns raping Sonja, each man more brutal than the previous. With the gag in his mouth and unable to speak, Markus pleaded with his eyes for Sonja to give them the answers they demanded in order to end the torture, but she turned her face away from his. The “whore traitor,” as the Russians called her, screamed in pain but never begged for them to spare her. Either way, she knew she was dead.

  Then—the sound of a gun’s repeated firing. The feel of his knee and shoulder shattering, his torso ripping. The smell of blood. The taste of death. The sight of Sonja. And there—his memories always faded to nothing, nothing, nothing.

  How did I go from reminiscing about the aroma of my grandmother’s holiday cookies to remembering this?

  Markus drew himself up and filled his lungs with as much air as they could hold. The mental struggle to expunge from his mind thoughts about his past took enormous effort. The physical aftermath of his internal reckoning left him sweating, his hands shaking.

  Dwelling on Sonja, on what happened in Sarajevo, always took him to the brink of that dark place in his mind where he felt on the verge of tumbling into a gray abyss and losing control. Yet, throughout his career, the times when he felt most in control were the times when he was doing what an assassin was hired to do—kill bad people.

  He never lost sleep over those justified kills. But he took personally the responsibility to keep his assets safe. He’d failed Sonja. It was her death that haunted him.

  And what the hell am I doing, getting involved with Sidney?

  “Hey, good morning.” Sidney sat up in bed, the covers tucked under her chin. “How long are you going to stand there staring at the wall?”

  Markus jerked around at the sound of her voice. “Good morning. Sorry if I woke you.” He stood rooted in front of the tapestry, his sweaty hands clasped behind his back. He drew in a deep, calming breath. Let it seep out through gritted teeth. Forcefully ignored the darkness encroaching on his vision.

  “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. I didn’t mean to startle you. Everything okay?”

  He took another slow, deep breath. “Everything’s—fine. Just taking a trip down memory lane.”

  “By your expression, I gather “memory lane” wasn’t a pleasant trip.”

  “Not as pleasant as the present road I’m on.” He forced a smile that quickly dissolved into something akin to a scowl. “I’ll bring up coffee. And it smells like Trevor’s heated up some of your maple oatmeal cookies. The breakfast of champions.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Sidney snuggled back under the covers. “I’ll keep the bed warm.”

  As he sto
pped in the doorway, he turned to look at Sidney, to say something, but the thought darted from his mind as his eyes were drawn to the tapestry. He read again the words of the quote seared in his memory. A warrior is worthless unless he rises above others and stands strong in the midst of a storm. He knew in his gut a raging storm loomed ahead.

  *****

  The door to Trevor’s room was slightly ajar, and as Sidney walked past, she saw Gunner lying at the foot of the bed. The dog’s nose rested between his paws as he watched Trevor on the floor doing pushups.

  “Knock, knock. May I come in?” She poked her head in the room. “You’re up early.”

  “So are you.” He spoke without losing his smooth rhythm of fast dips and slow rises, his elbows close to his sides in the military style of the exercise. “What’s going on?”

  “I want to go for a run before everyone gets here, but Markus needs computer time this morning. Apparently, I’m not allowed to leave the house without an armed bodyguard. He said I could go if you went with me.” She scrunched her face, seeing his unbandaged hands pressing against the tile floor. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

  Trevor sat up and wiped the sweat from his brow. “My right palm is nearly pain free. See, no need for a bandage this morning.” He held up his hand for proof. “The left is still a bit sore, but not too bad. As the saying goes, ‘Pain is weakness leaving the body.’”

  “I saw that on a T-shirt somewhere.” She smiled, thinking there was so much to admire about this man. “So, you up for a run? Three or four miles?”

  “Only three or four? What a slacker.” He tossed his sweat rag at her. “Give me a minute to put on my running shoes, the only shoes I happen to own. Gunner—here.” The dog jumped to the floor, allowing Trevor to brace against him as he stood.

  “Great. I’ll meet you downstairs.” She threw the rag back at him. “While we’re out, I need to get something from my truck. It’s parked at the barn.”

  “Sure. Not a problem,” he said as he finished tying the running shoe onto his prosthetic foot. Strapping the leather shoulder holster on over his T-shirt, he checked the safety and the load in the chamber before holstering the weapon.

  “I’m getting my Taser from the truck. That’s why I want to stop at the barn,” Sidney offered as she watched Trevor arm himself. “I need to make it a habit, I guess, carrying a form of protection. This is such a new mindset for me. I’m not used to thinking in these terms.”

  “If it’ll make you feel better, then by all means, we’ll get the Taser. But as long as you’re with either me or Markus, you’ll be protected.” Trevor stood with his hands on his hips, his serious expression no longer playful.

  “It will make me feel better, if for no other reason than to think I’m actively participating in my own safety.” I may never use it, she thought, but I’ll know it’s there.

  “I understand. Let’s go.” Gunner bounded ahead of them as Trevor closed his bedroom door.

  Markus opened his bedroom door to let Rex out. “He heard y’all out here in the hallway and started whining like a puppy, wanting to be included. It’d be a good idea if he went with you, Sidney. Have you got the GPS wrist band on?”

  “Got it.” Sidney held up her arm. “After stopping at the barn, I’m taking the upper creek path that we rode the other day, then straight back here. We won’t be gone long.”

  “Be safe. Please.” Markus wrapped an arm around Sidney’s waist, pulling her to him. “And hurry back. Run that Marine’s ass into the ground, if you have to.”

  “Run my ass into the ground? Guaranteed, I’ll keep up,” said Trevor, an amused smile spreading across his face as he looked back and forth between Sidney and Markus.

  “Stay away from the perimeter fence line. Keep to the interior of the property. The upper creek path is a good choice.” He held Sidney close a moment longer, stroking her cheek with his finger before releasing her.

  *****

  As they jogged toward the deer trail leading to the stables, Sidney looked over her shoulder and saw Markus standing in the window watching them. She waved and smiled, but a tightening in her stomach couldn’t be ignored.

  What was so important on the computer that he couldn’t join them? Had he heard from the contact who was supposed to get a message to Jessi? She’d have to ask him when they got back. Right now, she just wanted to get to the barn, to her truck, and to her Taser. She felt silly for making it such an important issue, even in her own mind, but thinking about her own safety and being able to protect herself made sense. She stepped up her pace, anxious to catch up with Trevor.

  CHAPTER 22

  Alpine

  Fallen leaves covered the upper creek trail. Cottonwoods and post oaks were bare except for a few yellow, orange, and gold hangers-on that refused to yield to autumn’s will. Gunner plunged into a pile the wind had heaped against the trunk of one large oak, sending a squirrel scampering up the tree. In a tag team effort, Rex planted both paws on the trunk and barked furiously at the frightened animal.

  “Goofy dogs. Come on, we can’t stop to chase squirrels.” Trevor maintained a steady stride, following Sidney who’d taken the lead. They’d been running side by side since leaving the barn, but on these narrower trails, he preferred her in front. With his limited vision, following her made it easier to navigate around potential obstructions.

  “No—no stopping. I don’t want this GPS to set off the stop-movement alarm.” Sidney kept a cautious eye on the trail as it wound around the left bank of the creek before descending into a ravine. The wooded path widened as it led back to the lodge.

  That was the most they’d conversed since leaving the barn and stopping to get her Taser. Trevor guessed that Sidney shared a similar habit, using her running time as thinking time. While he didn’t want to intrude upon her private thoughts, he was curious about the relationship blossoming between Markus and her. It wasn’t any of his business, so he decided not to inquire about it. However, he wasn’t at all surprised. The more he learned about Sidney, the more he could see she was perfect for Markus. Under different circumstances, it would be a match made in heaven—not that he cared anything about playing Cupid.

  As they rounded the final bend, Trevor jogged up next to Sidney, Gunner on his left, and Rex on Sidney’s right. Sunlight filtered through the bare branches of the trees lining the flat, straight pathway. The spotty shadows fooled his eye, making foot placement difficult. He remained in a state of heightened vigilance to keep from falling.

  “Let’s slow down a bit,” Sidney said. “We’re almost back at the lodge, and I wanted to talk to you about something—about Markus and me.”

  “You must have been reading my mind.” He shot her a surprised look. “It’s none of my business, but I’ll admit I’m curious. Are y’all officially a couple?”

  “A couple of needy individuals wanting the same thing? Yes. But we’re just friends. Nothing serious. Neither of us wants anything more than a physical relationship. I hope that doesn’t make me sound whorish.”

  Trevor threw back his head and laughed out loud. “Whorish? Hardly. It makes you sound human-ish.”

  “Thanks for being nonjudgmental-ish. I feel like you and I have been friends longer than just for a week.”

  “I agree. And I have to be frank. I detect more than a physical relationship going on between you two. I’m seeing a deep caring—I don’t know—a tenderness that says it’s more involved than sex alone. I’m just saying…”

  “It’s impossible for me not to care about him as a person. He’s the kind of man who could make me want more than just a friendship with physical benefits. But at this point in my life, I’m not in a position to…”

  Sidney stopped and turned around, her hand on Trevor’s arm. “What was that? Did you hear that?”

  “I didn’t hear anything.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Then again, my ears aren’t as good as yours.”

  “Shh. Listen. I hear voices coming from over there.” She pointed in the direction o
f the back fence line. “The last time I heard voices, I stumbled upon a couple of poachers who’d killed a deer.”

  “Rex heard something, too. Look at him. He’s all bristled up.”

  “This makes me nervous. Here boy, come.” She spoke in a loud whisper, motioning for the dog, but he ignored her. Crouching lower to the ground as if stalking prey, he moved slowly in the direction of the voices, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

  “Rex, come,” Trevor commanded as quietly as possible. He took Sidney by the arm, urging her to start walking. Rex paused for a moment before disappearing into the woods.

  “Shit,” Sidney hissed through gritted teeth. “Should we go after him?”

  “No.” Trevor quickened his steps, hurrying her along. “We need to get to the lodge and tell Markus. We’ll take the Jeep to look for him.”

  They sprinted a quarter of a mile to the juncture where the upper creek trail joined the upper ridge road. Sidney tugged on Trevor’s arm, stopping short. Pointing down the long slope of the gravel road, she asked, “Do you see what I see?”

  “It’s blurry, but I can make out the lodge. Barely.”

  “Markus and Ruth are standing next to her car in the driveway. It wouldn’t be wise for her to see me without my wig on. We have to keep moving, but walk slowly.”

  Trevor cursed under his breath. He wanted off the ridge where he felt vulnerable to attack. The image of being in a sniper’s crosshairs flashed through his mind, and he shuddered at the thought. Getting Sidney safely back to the lodge was more important than Ruth’s surprise at seeing her with red hair. They could explain away the change by claiming a box of drugstore dye and a pair of scissors did the trick. It was going to be difficult enough explaining to Markus in front of Ruth why his dog took off and why they came back without him.