But what can a farm boy from Nebraska do when big bones and muscles were in his genes strengthened by a diet of corn and meat? He joined Artemis Guardians Services (AGS) four years ago, and he’d been on Viktor Baran’s forward-assault team, but his boss had never sent him undercover. The Guardians were the go-to team for the DoD and the CIA when it came to covert missions that were politically high risk. Three months prior, he brought up the subject to Viktor again and the man merely smiled. A few weeks after that conversation, Jake was assigned an undercover op to infiltrate Schneider’s outfit.
Ex-military and disenfranchised with the government were an easy schtick to sell, and Baran had connections to motorcycle gangs to build Jake’s cover. However, boss man wasn’t very encouraging when he dropped by Jake’s house the morning he was leaving for his mission.
“Honestly, Banning, I don’t think you’re made for the spook life, but I’m giving you a chance to prove me wrong.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jake was surprised he didn’t snarl his response at his boss.
He was thirty-six years old. He’d be damned if he returned to AGS with his tail between his legs. This weapons drop was his first face-to-face with Schneider and his opportunity to get a foot into his network. Yeah, Viktor was in for a surprise.
Five minutes later, things didn’t go as planned.
In fact, it all went to hell.
The fool Gould wasn’t paying attention to the road, fiddling on his phone and damned near struck a deer. He swerved, went into a shallow ditch, and rode that for a while until the van leveled back on the main road. As the vehicle rolled to a stop, Jake cursed and shoved out of the van.
The flapping sound wasn’t a good sign and sure enough their front right tire was flat.
“Fuck!” He glared at Gould. “The fuck were you thinking?”
The other man shrugged as if it was no big deal. “Spare in the back. Why don’t ya use that muscle and get it changed while I let our men know of the change in plans? Easy-peasy, yeah?”
“Easy-peasy? Why don’t you go change the flat and I call them?”
“Fuck, man, you’re a simmering pot tonight. What’s wrong? You need to get laid?”
“What’s wrong is I’m working with a moron.”
“Well, if I’m a moron, then Schneider wouldna have them guns, you wouldna be getting your meet,” Gould smirked. “Don’t forget! I’m doing you this favor. So, skedaddle and fix that tire, yeah?” The man waved him away and before Jake gave in to the desire to relieve him of his crooked teeth, he stalked off to the rear of the vehicle to grab the spare.
He jacked up the axle efficiently and changed out the tire in no time. He’d done it often enough growing up on the farm and driving his father’s pickup. Then with the SEALs, the last thing you wanted was to get stuck on the road in the middle of hostile territory. You changed a tire double time.
Jake straightened from his knee and hefted the shorn tire.
“Done already?” Gould chortled. “See, those muscles come to good use.”
“Changing a tire has dick to do with muscles, asshole.”
But Gould wasn’t paying attention to Jake, his eyes were riveted on the left mirror and cursed a blue streak.
Concerned at what drew the man’s attention he leaned away to check and his gut plummeted to his feet.
A police cruiser crossed the intersection and it was heading their way.
Fuck his life.
He was holding the flat tire. If he tossed it to the ditch, the cop might see it and it was too risky to open the back of the vehicle.
The sound of a gun cocking drew his attention back to Gould.
His partner in crime was holding his piece, checking the chamber. “The cop’s gotta go, man. Pity if it would be that bitch at the store, but she was waiting for us to make a wrong move. If she checks the back of the van—game over, man. Game. Over.”
“So, you’re just gonna shoot her?” Jake asked in disbelief.
“Schneider’s boys will be here any minute. You think they’re gonna leave without the guns? We’re doing the pretty cop a favor. They find her when they get here, they’ll take her. Use her for”—he cut off, eyes going to the side view mirror again. “Get back in the dang van.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Jake growled, dropping the tire and climbing into the vehicle.
Gould’s eyes were trained on his side mirror, the man’s right leg was jumping up and down in excitement or anxiety, Jake wasn’t sure which, but what he did know was he had to act fast.
He grabbed Gould’s head and smashed it into the steering wheel. The man listed sideways and the gun clattered somewhere between the gas and brake pedals.
As expected, the cop’s cruiser parked twenty feet from the rear of their vehicle, headlights at full strength.
He yanked Gould out of the driver’s seat, hauling him across the console. Jake momentarily backed out of the vehicle to give him enough leverage.
Aware of the sounds of a car door closing and footsteps crunching on the gravelly pavement, Jake’s muscles tensed, and he realized he had to call upon every bit of his acting skills, which were, invariably, nil.
2
The van Stella spotted at the convenience store was stopped at an odd angle on the side of the road. This stretch of road was dark, lit only by the night’s full moon and stars. She parked behind it, close enough to see its plates, and gave the dispatcher the information.
She grabbed her cap and put it on before getting out of the vehicle.
Stella tried to relax her strides at the same time figuratively strengthen her spine. This wasn’t her first traffic stop, but it was the first one where she’d caught a strong whiff of danger. Her physical responses were on high alert. Case in point, her mouth was dry, and she was having trouble swallowing, probably because her heart felt like it was lodged under her throat.
“Everything all right here?” Having the occupant out of the vehicle presented another problem because no way could she get close enough and leave her fingerprints at the back of the van. They were taught at the Academy to do this just in case a traffic stop went wrong and something happened to the officer.
She stopped ten feet away.
It was Mountain Man whose form took shape as he moved closer to the halo cast by her cruiser’s headlights.
“Not exactly. Gould tried to avoid a deer and we blew a tire,” he said, his intimidating silhouette still mostly in the shadows.
“Is he okay?”
“He hit his head.”
“Have you called 9-1-1?” Her hand moved to her shoulder radio.
“No.”
She clicked on her radio and it crackled. “Dispatch, this—”
“Don’t!”
Startled, she took a step back, releasing her comm unit to rest a hand on her weapon. “Stay where you are, sir.” She hated the tremor in her voice.
He held out a placating hand, slowly taking form as he approached. “You don’t understand. You need to get out of here.”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“I can’t. Listen. You don’t want to be—”
She heard a groan and then a roar of “You son of a bitch!”
Stella unholstered her Glock as Slim Jeans leapt out from the darkness and tackled the bigger man, taking them down into the ditch. She quickly radioed dispatch for backup and an ambulance and hurried over to the embankment. The skinny man got in a few good punches, but it was a losing fight. He was easily overpowered by his companion and took a header to the ground.
She pointed her gun at Mountain Man, watching him stagger to his feet, taking a step back—several actually—as he skipped out of the ditch.
“Hands up!”
“Officer—”
“Hands up. Down on one knee.” Her voice was scratchy but shaky. “Now the other. Cross them.”
He did as she ordered, his look was wary as he eyed the weapon in her hands. Stella knew better than to cuff him without
backup. “Do not move.”
She walked past the kneeling man, keeping a safe distance, and checked on Slim Jeans. He was still out cold.
“We need to leave,” Mountain Man said, his head turned, chin over his shoulder as she was behind him.
“No. We’re gonna wait for backup.” Her voice sounded stronger now. “Check the back of your van. It’s going to take them—”
“Seven minutes,” he clipped, surprising her. “Schneider’s men are about to descend upon us. There’ll be five men in their vehicle. Think you can take them all?”
Her heartbeat spiked. Was he bluffing? “You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie? Why do you think I knocked Tom out? He was going to shoot you.”
He saved her?
“Why should I believe you?” She backed away from the edge of the road.
“Listen, officer. They’re merciless. They take after their cartel counterparts. I’m not gonna describe what they’d do to you if they find you here.”
“I’ll take my—” Her eyes squinted as she detected shadows and heard movement by the van. Mountain Man noticed it too and he turned rigid.
Arms raised, gun in hand, she went back near the ditch. Slim Jeans was gone.
“Let me up,” Mountain Man urged.
“Don’t move.” Her voice rose as she scooted behind the back of the van and crouched, near where the tire was on the driver’s side.
“Fuck, lady. He’ll get his—”
She cut a glance at Mountain Man who’d altered his stance. His arms were down, and he had one knee cocked, ready to spring.
Her exhales came in rapid breaths, a tingle started at the back of her spine. She heard cursing in the van and the driver door open.
“You fucker,” Slim Jeans growled. “Where are the keys?”
“You gonna leave me here?” Mountain Man taunted.
As the men squared off, a numbness touched Stella’s lips, spreading across her face, down her shoulders and into her arms.
“Where’s the cop?”
“You think I’m gonna tell you?”
“How about I just shoot you?”
Mountain Man was an open target and somehow had proven that he wasn’t selling her out.
She swung from the back of the van. Slim Jeans had the gun raised, looking startled, and time and space slowed.
She saw the infinitesimal squeeze of his finger and Stella fired.
Bang!
A hum in her head morphed into pounding in her ears and she stood there frozen as blood spread center mass where her bullet hit him.
“Fuck!” The big man was an even bigger presence by her side, but she couldn’t look at him, couldn’t even react as he gently pried her gun away from her.
“Come on.”
“I can’t.” She was numb, her eyes still riveted on the carnage caused by her shot.
A curse was muffled and hands gripped her shoulders. “Breathe. You’re having a panic attack.” His face grew closer. “But we need to leave. Now.”
He hurried her to the back of the van, opened it, and she was momentarily jolted at the sight that greeted her.
Handguns, rifles, and boxes of ammunition were stacked on top of each other on the flooring.
“What the—”
“Listen, lady, you just fucked up my op,” he gritted.
“Leave me—”
“No,” he snarled. “I’m taking you with me.”
He yanked off her shoulder radio and body cam—which he crushed with his booted foot. Stella’s mind was spinning as she let herself be tossed inside the vehicle, the man using her own cuffs on her. Looping them into one of the railings along the side of the van, she ended up half-kneeling, half-sitting on its floor.
“It’s gonna be a bumpy ride, sweetheart, but we need to jet.”
He slammed the vehicle doors and darkness engulfed her.
Panic attack.
That was what he said.
Breathe.
In and Out.
But images played back in her mind on repeat.
A casket being lowered to the ground.
Her gram sitting in front of it.
All alone.
Dammit she’s still hyperventilating, Jake thought as he glanced in the rearview mirror. He guided the van back onto Little Indian Road, passing the convenience store where he met the pretty officer and sealed their fate. Sirens wailed in the distance. It would be another five minutes before the cops reached the location where they’d left the police cruiser and Gould’s body.
Jake couldn’t fucking breathe when she bravely put herself between Gould’s gun and him.
She risked her life to protect him.
And this was how he paid her back?
“You all right back there?”
No answer.
He hated himself right now, but he had to do damage control and couldn’t have her fighting him when he needed all his faculties to keep an eye out for Schneider’s men and avoid them as much as possible.
They should be at the rendezvous point by now in a black van similar as the one he was driving.
Gould’s phone was ringing. Schneider must be at the scene and found his body. Jake was tempted to keep the burner and use it to contact the gang leader, but in case they had a tracker, he couldn’t risk it. He rolled his window down and flung it on the side of the road.
Track that.
He checked on the cop again.
“Name’s Jake,” he said. “What about you, lady?”
“Stella,” she croaked.
“Stella,” he repeated. “I don’t mean you any harm. You know that, right?”
She didn’t respond. His other phone, the one for the Guardians, buzzed in his pocket. He shifted in his seat and fished it out.
“Why the fuck weren’t you answering?” Viktor demanded. “Tim’s been trying you for the past thirty minutes.”
“Busy. Op went FUBAR.” He gave him the Cliff ’s Notes version of what happened.
As he listened, Viktor’s frosty silence came over loud and brittle on the phone. “You abducted a cop.” His succinct and calm words carried a wallop more than any yelling could have delivered.
“I had no choice all right?” Jake growled. “I had to act fast. I’m not sure what Schneider’s men would do to Stella.” His eyes automatically went to the rearview mirror to check on her.
“Stella. You moved to first names quickly. How personal did this get?”
“Dammit Viktor … this is not getting personal. That’s her name. What the fuck?”
“The fuck is, Banning, the many protocols you’ve broken. I can’t even—”
“Lecture me later,” Jake snapped. “I’m on Oceana Boulevard. You indicated a safe house along Little Neck Creek. Need that address now.”
A sigh came over the line and then Viktor rattled off the address.
“Gotcha. Do I need to stop for provisions if we need to lay low for a few days?”
“It’s well-stocked with MREs so don’t expect the Four Seasons.”
Sarcasm, Viktor Baran is thy name.
“You sure Gould is dead?” Viktor asked.
“Positive. No one could lose that much blood and live.” Besides the gaping hole in his chest courtesy of a forty-five caliber.
“One more thing. Not sure if it’d matter, Gould and I were caught on surveillance at the country store.” He gave him the intersection. “It’s across from a boarded up general store. With Stella missing and a dead guy on their hands, I’m sure VBPD might go through those.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“’preciate it.”
“Stay low for now. See if we can salvage this. Schneider hasn’t seen your face. If Gould was his inside man at the port, he’ll be needing another.”
“How long?”
“Give me twenty-four hours to get the pulse on this shit.”
“Roger that.”
He swiped and ended the call. A new reluctance in getting with Schnei
der’s group sparked uneasiness in his gut that this undercover shit wasn’t his calling after all. The desire to do the right thing was at the forefront of his mind. Always. And sometimes, if not most times in covert ops, there was a lot of misdirection, outright lying, and moral ambiguity.
Distaste coated his tongue.
“We’re almost there, sweetheart.”
“I’m not your sweetheart.” Finally, a spirit of defiance.
“How long have you been a cop?”
There was a rustle, a shifting of position and then, “None of your business.”
Jake swallowed a chuckle. “I’m curious. What was your impression of me? Back in the store?”
She’d descended into grating silence again. Jake wished they were at the house now so he could assure her face to face that he wouldn’t hurt her. “Come on, you can tell me,” he cajoled.
“You carry yourself like ex-military,” she replied slowly.
“Uh-huh. What else?” No surprise there. And that nagging feeling that he truly did suck as a covert operative blossomed like rat poison making its way through his nervous system.
“I shouldn’t turn my back on you.”
“You thought we were going to rob that store?”
“It did cross my mind, yes. You and your pal—”
“He’s not my pal.”
She emitted an effusive breath. “You were an odd pair and that called attention to both of you. You’re more”—she broke off.
“More?” he prodded.
“Tidy.”
“Tidy?” Jake didn’t know whether to laugh or be offended. Did he appear that prosaic? Maybe compared to Gould. That guy could use lessons on personal hygiene. “Thanks … I think. Do you want me to tell you what I thought about you?”
“Not particularly.”
Her tone was quite snippy, and he caught her shifting her weight again. Her arms had probably fallen asleep, being cuffed to a rail at her eye level.
“We’re almost there.” He repeated. “I’m sorry, you’re uncomfortable.” He turned the blinkers for the upcoming exit, making sure he took the turn slow so he wouldn’t jar her too much. Her growing sullenness was palpable. Not that he’d blame her. She risked her life and getting cuffed in an uncomfortable position was how he paid her back. He’d make it up to her. If there was only one bed in this house they were going, she’d be on it. He’d sleep on the floor.
Protecting Stella (Special Forces: Operation Alpha) Page 2
