by T. K. Lukas
“Sounds good.” Trevor held the door open, and Rex tried to follow Gunner out.
“No, Rex. You have to stay.” Sidney shoved her foot across the opening, barring the dog from leaving. “Sorry, but Markus said you couldn’t go anywhere without him. The doggie boot camp thing, remember?” She slid out the door, with Trevor close behind.
The western sun glowed faintly on the horizon as they jogged toward the deer trail leading to the barn. “Markus stayed in his safe-room all afternoon on the computer,” Sidney offered. “He said he’d brief us later on what he called a ‘plan to secure the perimeter.’ Apparently, he’s put the wheels in motion to get a team in place to secure the ranch until he can get me out of Alpine.”
“He’d told me as much. I think it’s a wise move, now that we know someone’s snooping around town and asking questions.”
They jogged the rest of the way to the barn in silence. All the while, Trevor ran over in his mind the actual words Markus had said to him. The plan involved a Black Hawk helicopter flying in from El Paso’s Fort Bliss sometime after midnight, bringing in a team of Special Ops experts. How in the hell, Trevor had asked him, did he have the authority to commandeer a Black Hawk? On top of that, on whose authority was he ordering in a Special Ops team? Markus’s response had been ambiguous at best—something about having friends in high places.
Must be God, or Generals, or someone higher.
Sidney threw on the light switch as they entered the barn. “I’m surprised Markus hasn’t caught up with us yet. That phone call must be very important.”
“No doubt.” Trevor grabbed the cart with the feed buckets, remembering the routine. “I’ll wheel the cart—you scoop.”
“How are your hands feeling? If you’d rather, I’ll push the cart while you scoop the feed.”
“I’m good. My hands are almost back to normal,” Trevor exaggerated.
They made the rounds, going up and down the aisles of the barn, scooping oats and throwing hay for the nickering horses eager for dinner. When they’d finished, Trevor parked the cart, leaving the buckets ready to be filled for tomorrow morning’s feeding.
“Gunner is whimpering like he needs to go out,” said Sidney. “I’ll turn the lights off and close up the barn while you take him outside.”
“No,” said Trevor. “Gunner can wait. I’m not leaving you by yourself for—”
The explosive sound of gunfire rang out. Trevor grabbed Sidney by the arm and pulled her to the ground. Unholstering his pistol, he rolled in front of Sidney, shielding her with his body. Another shot rang out. The bullet ricocheted off the cement floor and struck the wall behind them.
Sidney screamed. Terrified, she scooted backward toward the feed room. “In here, Trevor.”
“Get inside. Lock the door. Now. Take Gunner.”
“Not without you.”
“Go. Now.”
Sidney crawled toward the door of the feed room, yanking on Gunner’s harness. “Come with me. Damn it, Gunner, cooperate.” The dog’s nails scratched uselessly on the cement floor in his attempt to gain traction. He struggled against Sidney’s grip, barking frantically as he tried to get to Trevor. She managed to drag the dog inside before slamming the door behind her.
Three silhouetted figures moved toward him, their pistols raised. Trevor rolled to his side and then belly-crawled to the bales of hay stacked on a pallet next to the feed room. He crouched in the shadows. Waiting. Letting them get close enough for his eye to identify his targets.
The men crept nearer. Trevor fired off three rounds before a bullet ripped through his left arm. The impact sent him sprawling backward onto the floor. He fired another round at the figure looming over him and watched the man’s face disintegrate in a wet spray of blood, tissue, and bone.
Anton kicked the gun from Trevor’s hand as he shouted to Fredo, “Get the girl. She’s behind that door.”
Fredo jiggled the doorknob. “It’s locked.” Backing away a few paces, he fired three rounds into the door, shattering the lock.
Gunfire echoed throughout the barn, sending the horses into a panic. The frenzied animals called to one another in shrill, high-pitched whinnies that mingled with the sound of Sidney shrieking in pain as her Taser was ripped from her hands and used against her.
Trevor tried to stand—tried to get to Sidney—tried to block the boot as it came down hard against his temple. Then, everything went black.
CHAPTER 24
Alpine
Markus emerged from the safe-room, satisfied his plan was coming together. Moose and his team should depart Langley soon, be in El Paso by twenty-two hundred hours, and then board a Black Hawk at Fort Bliss to land in his arena by midnight. Even though his plan called for him to collect on a debt from his former boss, who was now a Deputy Director in the CIA, it was still the most expeditious way to ensure Sidney’s safety until the CIA could turn the case over to the FBI.
Deputy Director O’Connor, Colonel James J. O’Connor, USMC (Retired), had been Markus’s commander during his days in Force Recon. Later, Markus worked indirectly for Colonel O’Connor during a stint with Special Forces Command. After O’Connor’s unexpected retirement from the Corps and his entry into the CIA, he was instrumental in convincing Markus to join the CIA’s special covert Black Ops unit.
Collecting on a debt was more of a euphemism than anything. In the Corps, as well as in the CIA, whether active duty, retired, or undercover, the band of brothers was just that—a band. They stuck together. When one needed help, the others came running.
After arming the security system, Markus set out at a jog along the deer trail, Rex obediently heeling at his side. He ran through in his mind the rest of the plan to make sure he’d not forgotten anything. Moose and his men would set up a perimeter around the lodge, keeping it under 24/7 surveillance. The FBI would send in a team to brief Sidney on the witness protection program. After they had evaluated potential locations, they’d evacuate her to an undisclosed safe house. Then, she would disappear for a while.
That last part tightened his gut, but he’d not dwell on it, he told himself.
In the near distance, Markus saw the barn’s lights glowing in the stall windows, the shadowy shapes of Trevor and Sidney moving about as they fed the horses. He picked up his pace, wanting to be a part of the evening’s feeding chores.
As he neared the barn, Rex began growling and running ahead, refusing to obey commands. Markus yelled for the dog to come back, but his words were drowned out by a sudden blast of gunfire. Another shot split the night. Markus unholstered his Glock, his tactical mode automatically switching into high gear. Now at a dead run, he reached the barn to hear four shots fired in quick succession. Another soon followed.
Three more shots pinged off metal, followed by the gut-wrenching sound of Sidney shrieking. Images flashed through his mind of what that shriek foretold. Crouching low to the ground, pressing his body against the barn, he crept inside, staying to the shadows.
Move toward the sound of the guns.
As his eyes adjusted to the light, he crawled along the main aisle of the barn. Muffled noise coming from the area of the feed room told him where to look. Rolling over and maneuvering into a crouching position, he took aim at the man in black dragging Sidney by her hair.
He raised his weapon. He took a deep breath. Expelled it halfway. Held the remaining air in his lungs. Steadied his body. Saw his target. Saw what lay beyond his target. Saw a clear shot. His finger rested on the trigger, ready to squeeze.
Before Markus could fire, Rex hurtled from the shadows and knocked the man sideways. Sidney collapsed onto her hands and knees. In a fluid bound, Rex leapt again, this time latching onto the assailant’s throat. The dog’s momentum sent the man stumbling, and they fell to the ground in a heap. Maintaining his death hold on the attacker's neck, the maddened animal jerked his head left and right while pulling backward, dragging his victim across the cement floor. With a relentless crush of powerful jaws and teeth, Rex ripped
out the man’s esophagus.
Seeing movement, Markus spun to his right. Another dark-clad figure straddled Trevor, a knife gripped in his hands and raised over Trevor’s chest. The man’s eyes widened in surprise as he stared at the sight of Rex mauling his associate to death. His stunned pause allowed Markus time to aim and shoot the knife out of his hands, the bullet ripping off fingers in the process. The man roared in pain as he scrambled to his feet. But the tackling force of Markus’s body crashing against his propelled him to the ground.
“Make a move, and I’ll splatter your fucking brains,” growled Markus, his Glock pressed against the base of the man’s skull. He put all of his weight onto his knee and bore down on the attacker’s back, producing unbearable pain.
“Okay, okay.” His harsh, raspy voice was hardly audible with his mouth crushed against the floor.
“How many of you?” Markus ground down harder with his knee.
“Three” His body writhed in pain.
Markus looked around for the third person and spotted a body lying near Trevor, the body missing most of his face. “Who are you and who sent you here?”
“Anton. Nobody sent me. I don’t work for nobody.”
“I don’t believe you.” Markus swung the butt end of his pistol, striking Anton in the temple and knocking him unconscious. Grabbing a lead rope hanging nearby, he hogtied Anton’s hands to his feet behind his back. Pushing away from the motionless body, he turned to Sidney who was on her knees, struggling to stand.
Rex crouched in front of Sidney, blocking her from anything he perceived as a threat. The hair along his spine stood on end. His rigid tail extended straight out, ears pulled flat against his skull. Growling. Teeth bared. Blood and saliva dripped from his muzzle.
As Markus approached, Rex’s growl intensified. The dog crouched lower in a defensive stance, prepared to attack. Markus stopped and relaxed his posture. He held out one hand for Rex to sniff. In the other hand, he kept his finger on the trigger of his pistol. “Easy, boy. It’s just me. Easy.”
“Rex, it’s okay,” Sidney soothed. Now standing, she reached out and rubbed her fingers down the dog’s back. No longer growling, his carriage softened. He looked from Sidney to Markus, a confused, though still wary expression in his eyes.
“Give him a command, Sid. Anything I taught you earlier. Make him obey you.” If Rex didn’t recognize Sidney or him as an alpha pack leader, he’d likely attack again. And it’ll probably be me.
Sidney eased closer to Rex, her shaky voice as forceful as she could manage. “Rex, platz.” She gave the German command for him to drop to the ground in place. He obeyed, lowering to the floor in a sphinxlike pose.
“Good job, Sid.” Getting the dog’s attention, Markus called to him. “Rex. Achtung. Hier.” Rex seemed to waver a moment before rising and walking to Markus. He sat at attention, waiting for another command, allowing Markus’s hand to stroke his head. “Good boy, Rex. That’s a good boy.”
From across the floor, Trevor stirred and tried to sit up. But he collapsed, moaning and cradling his arm against his chest. Markus rushed over and dropped down next to him. He felt for the strength of his pulse and assessed the gravity of his wounds. Ripping off his T-shirt, he wound it around Trevor’s arm, securing it firmly over the bullet wound.
“He’s got a strong pulse. No great blood loss yet.” Turning to Sidney, he said, “Come and put pressure on his arm, firm and steady, while I attend to Rex.”
Sidney limped over to Trevor who slipped in and out of consciousness. She knelt beside him, placing her hands over the wound and pressing down. Blood soon soaked through the shirt and covered her hands. “He’s bleeding through,” she shouted over her shoulder.
“Keep pressing down. I’ll be right there.” Markus knew that in Rex’s current state of confusion and agitation, he was as lethal as a loaded weapon. Calming him with soothing words, he hosed the blood off of his coat, encouraging the dog to drink water. He rubbed disinfectant into Rex’s fur, leaving it on to mask the smell of death.
With that done, Markus hurried over to Sidney and knelt next to her. Placing a hand on the back of her neck, he asked, “Are you hurt?”
“My thigh is on fire from being tasered, but I’m okay.” Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought them back.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He took over the task of keeping pressure on Trevor’s wound.
“I’m sure.” Rocking back on her heels, she stared at the blood on her hands, at Trevor lying unconscious on the ground. She began to shake.
“Get one of the horse’s leg-wraps from the tack room and wind it around Trevor’s arm. Don’t remove the T-shirt, just add another layer. Continue applying pressure. I need to secure that asshole.” He nodded toward Anton.
Markus noted her trembling body and her pale, shocked expression. Giving her a task was critical in helping her to focus on the present—to not dwell on the horror she’d just witnessed. He didn’t want her going into shock.
She hobbled as best she could to the tack room and came out with white, quilted wraps used for protecting a horse’s legs during shipping. She wound one around Trevor’s bloody arm, holding it in place with steady pressure.
Markus moved to where Anton lay unconscious and dragged him inside the nearest empty horse stall. With another lead rope, he lashed the limp body to the stall’s metal frame and tied a gag in his mouth. After he removed the padlock from his personal locker in the tack room, he bolted the stall door and secured the lock.
Rex followed on his heels, as if seeking nearness to the one he considered his pack leader. Understanding how close he’d come tonight to shooting his dog sickened Markus. But if Rex had lunged at him, he would have had no option but to shoot.
“He’s coming around,” Sidney said to Markus when he returned.
Trevor moaned and blinked his eyes. He rolled his head from side to side in a struggle to wake up as he slipped in and out of consciousness. Gunner lay at his side, whimpering softly and resting his head on Trevor’s stomach.
“All right. Let’s take a look here.” Markus removed the bandage and T-shirt from Trevor’s arm so he could evaluate the damage. “The bleeding has stopped. That’s a positive.”
He saw that the bullet had gone straight through the bicep, a clean shot just above the elbow joint that still operated freely. The cut on his temple would require a few stitches, and the apparent concussion, as evidenced by the dilation of his pupils, would take time to resolve.
Markus retrieved a first aid kit from the veterinarian’s supply cabinet and began cleaning the entrance and exit wounds with the same Betadine disinfectant he’d used on Rex. Then he flushed the open wounds with saline solution, rewrapped the arm in clean bandages, and secured it with a sling wrap. By the time he had disinfected and stitched the head wound, Trevor, though dazed, had awakened.
“Where’s Sidney?” Trevor asked, his eyes darting around. “Is she okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m here behind you, holding your head in my lap.”
Trevor sucked in deep breaths, his voice unsteady. “How bad are my injuries?
“You took a bullet to the left upper arm, clean through the muscle. No broken bones, and the elbow joint doesn’t appear damaged,” said Markus. “Looks like a blow to the temple knocked you out, though with your hard head, you’ll be all right.”
Trevor managed a weak smile and tried to move the arm secured in the sling. “There were three—I remember seeing three. Did we get them all?”
“You got one. Rex took one down. I’ve got the other secured. A dead man can’t talk. I want to hear what the live one has to say.” Markus’s skill at interrogating prisoners was still lauded among those at the Company, those who knew him as John Walker. Getting a prisoner to talk was sometimes challenging, sometimes bloody, but their not talking was never an option.
“Help me up.” Trevor tried to roll onto his right side, but searing pain ripped through his head, forcing him onto his back.
&n
bsp; “Hang tight, buddy. You don’t need to get up yet. I’ll be just a minute.” Markus ran to his office across from the tack room, rifling through the keys on the ring hanging inside the door. Locating the correct key, he hurried out to the parking lot to his pickup. He backed the truck into the barn as close to Trevor as he could maneuver.
“What can I do to help?” Sidney placed Trevor’s head on the stack of unused bandages and began gathering the bloody gauze and discarded needle and thread.
“When you’re done, help me get Trevor loaded. Then, I’ll need you to drive this truck to the lodge. I’ll be riding in the back with my prisoner. Are you up to that?”
“What about Rex? Is he going to be all right? Has this—changed him?”
“Time will tell. He’s subdued and wanting human contact. That’s a good sign. But, we’ll need to keep a close eye on him. Now, can you drive?”
“I can drive, yes,” she said, walking closer to where Markus stood. “But, shouldn’t we call the police?”
“Some things aren’t handled by the police. Some things never make the headlines or the ten o’clock news.”
“I don’t understand—”
“The right people are handling this. I know who I can trust, but I don’t know who I can’t trust. These street thugs didn’t figure out where you were hiding on their own.”
“But what about getting Trevor to the hospital? He should see a doctor—”
“I’m the only doctor Trevor’s going to see for now,” Markus snapped. “The cartel has infiltrated Alpine. We’re not leaving this property until I have reinforcements in place—not even for a hospital. Do you understand?” His austere expression matched the severity of his words.
“I—I understand.” Sidney backed away, visibly shaken by his sudden harsh coldness.
“I’ve tended to far worse wounds on the battlefield than his,” said Markus, his voice still severe. Seeing her recoil, he took a few deep breaths to regain his composure. “Sorry, Sid. I didn’t mean to snap at you. Trevor will get more care later. He’s going to be fine. Trust me.”
