by Misty Evans
She gave a false salute. “Sir, yes, sir.”
Chapter Eight
Engine noise woke her. The boat was downshifting. Were they docking?
Shadows engulfed the cabin. A check of her phone showed she’d been out for nearly three hours.
Groaning, Bianca slid back down into the warm covers that smelled like salt, humidity, and Cal—warm and comforting, like her favorite blanket at home. Which made sense since Cal always stole the blankets when he was home and wound himself in them.
She closed her eyes for a second and smiled. The hum of The Love Boat’s engine had lulled her to sleep. A deep sleep she’d desperately needed after the previous days of paranoia and anxiety had kept her fight-or-flight mode fully engaged. How did Cal and men like his SEAL unit live like that on missions?
Her stomach growled, and beside the bed, Maggie’s tail thumped against the floor. “Hi, girl.”
The Lab licked Bianca’s cheek. Dog breath flooded her nose. Shifting away, Bianca patted the dog’s head. As she sat up, the boat angled clockwise and continued to decelerate. She stuck out a hand to stabilize herself and the boat bumped against something, jarring her.
It was the first time she’d been on a boat, but she knew they were definitely coming to a stop. Rising up on her knees, she brushed Cal’s shirt aside to peer outside.
Water, cloudy skies, a long dock that led to shore, and a huge beach house that rose several stories in the air.
Large, reflective windows stared back at her, the low-hanging clouds seemingly perched on the high roof peak.
The engine died. Bianca scrambled off the bunk bed, shoving her phone into her briefcase. They’d stopped for a reason, and she wanted to be ready to disembark if necessary.
Where are we?
She grabbed her dress shirt, still caked with blood, and shoved it in her briefcase with the phone. Probably wise not to wear it in public, but it was the only change of clothes she had unless she wanted to confiscate more T-shirts from Cal. Not a terrible idea, but from the stash she’d taken the current one, she’d noted he didn’t have any to spare.
The cotton of the shirt she was wearing was soft, like it had been worn a hundred times. Maybe it had. Like the sheets, it smelled faintly like Cal and a lot like good old laundry detergent.
Need rushed through her, hot and desperate. Besides her career, Cal was all she had in the world. She’d almost lost him to Grimes. Still might lose him to Tephra. Even if they succeeded in figuring out why she’d become a target of the government and put a stop to it, the divorce would sever their relationship. She rubbed a hand across the fabric at her stomach, willing the sudden cramp there to subside. Emotions aren’t productive. She had to shut them down.
Though soft, Cal’s footsteps overhead seemed hurried as he crossed from side to side. Tying off the boat. She itched to go up there and see what she could do to help, but knew better. He’d only yell at her to stay below.
Waiting wasn’t her strong suit. Never had been. Her body craved movement, her flight mechanism still engaged. Her mind craved some piece of information, some tidbit of knowledge that would bring this disastrous situation to an end. She’d always lived in her head, her brain needing constant stimulation. While it made her a highly successful analyst, it made for a lonely life. She was far more suited to books, data, and research than to real life.
Far more comfortable sitting behind a computer screen than dealing with an assassin with a hit out on her.
Maggie went to the bottom of the stairs and peered up, expecting Cal. Bianca finger-combed her hair into a fresh ponytail and waited.
A few seconds later, he appeared, his short hair glistening with rain, a blast jacket covering his upper body. “Ready?” he said, his eyes scanning the T-shirt and her briefcase.
Ready for what? She could only imagine. “Where are we?”
He crossed to the bed and tugged out the drawer below it. Shirts were tossed back and forth until he withdrew a sweatshirt. He tossed it to her and she caught it in midair. “Put this on.”
She set the briefcase on the table, then drew on the sweatshirt. As she pulled her ponytail out of the neckline, he handed her a ball cap. “This too,” he said.
To protect her hair or as a disguise? “Is someone following us?”
“No.” He started for the stairs and patted his leg for the dog to follow. “But we can’t be too careful.”
True. Every city, state, and federal institution had cameras, and video surveillance was no longer limited to government and businesses. Home security was a booming market and most people had a camera on their phone.
From the ground up to the satellites in space, someone somewhere was snapping images and taking videos of everything from ant colonies to major international crises.
“Keep your head down,” Cal instructed as he climbed out of the cabin.
Bianca did, following close behind him. “Can I have that Glock back?”
Was that a chuckle she heard? She couldn’t be sure as they rose to the deck, rain falling lightly and the waves of the water lapping gently against the sides of the boat.
He took her hand and helped her cross from the boat onto the dock. It was designed with two slips for boats. Cal’s sat in one, the other empty. Did that mean the owners of the house were gone?
She tried to keep her head down, but she needed to get a look at her surroundings. Tilting the brim of the hat farther down, she lifted her chin slightly to peer from underneath it.
Maggie jumped from the boat and sprinted down the dock toward the house, letting go of a joyful-sounding bark. Had the dog been here before?
Cal moved beside Bianca, his firm hand going around her elbow. “This way.”
Like there was any other?
The long, wooden dock reminded her of a gang plank on a pirate’s boat. Except she wouldn’t be forced to jump into the ocean at the end, she’d be forced to go back on dry land.
Walk the plank. Tephra’s out there somewhere waiting for you.
Her throat tightened. Her feet refused to move. She didn’t want to stay on The Love Boat forever, hated being on the water, but the safety and simplicity of it beckoned to her.
“B?” Cal’s voice was quiet but urgent in her ear. His hand released her elbow and slid around to the small of her back. “We need to move.”
Move. Right. Bianca forced her rubbery legs to walk. The touch of Cal’s hand on her lower back was light. His gaze swept the area, his other hand hidden under his jacket, holding a gun at the ready, no doubt.
Houses dotted the beach, each with a sizable yard so none were right on top of the other. Some were larger than others, all set back from the sand and water.
Now that her legs were cooperating, she and Cal hustled down the gangplank and hit land. Maggie was already waiting up near the house, wagging her tail and panting like usual.
Bianca’s feet sank in the sand, tiny grains sneaking into her shoes. She and Cal went over a slight incline, passing clumps of tall, stiff, beach grasses, and into the green, well-manicured lawn in direct contrast to the wild, untamed beach.
A few yards in sat an infinity pool and between that and the house’s patio was a lap pool. Cal guided her around both, checking over his shoulder and keeping an eye on their surroundings as he led her to the back door.
Or was it the front?
Depended, she guessed, on whether you considered the beach your front yard or your back.
“Nice place. Whose is it?” Bianca asked again. For some stupid reason, her teeth wanted to chatter like they had on the boat. Her insides were shaking as well and she clamped down on her jaw, wondering how she could be cold when she was sweating under Cal’s sweatshirt.
“Remember Emit Petit?” Cal was looking at a keypad next to the door.
A face from her memory surfaced. “The kid you used to skateboard all over the neighborhood with? The one who broke his femur in three places the summer we were eight?”
He punched some numbers and
nodded. “Marlene is with Doctors Without Borders now. She and a couple of her crew got mixed up with some kidnappers last year. You didn’t know?”
Marlene was Emit’s older sister. “No.”
“And here I thought you called all the team’s missions from what you said earlier.”
“I only have say in those involving high-ranking terrorists.” Ferns grew in large pots flanking each side of the double doors. “Didn’t Emit go in the Navy like you? I remember he wanted to fly jets or something.”
The light on the panel went from red to green, and Bianca heard a quiet click of the lock. “He passed all the tests but one. Every time he was under a couple Gs of pressure, he’d throw up. Thought he’d try SEAL training, but that didn’t work out either. He rang out after day two.”
“So this is his place?”
Cal opened the impressive wrought iron French doors, holding one side wide for her and Maggie to enter. “One of Emit’s ways of saying thank you for his sister’s safe return.”
“He gave you the combination to his beach house?”
“It’s his vacation home. Said I could use it anytime. Never expected to need it.”
The inside was as impressive as the outside, the foyer a giant room with a two-story ceiling, dark hardwood floors, a crystal chandelier of swirling blown glass, and a beautiful wrought-iron staircase that curled up to the second floor. Underneath it was an ocean blue wall of cascading water.
Bianca cleaned the raindrops off her glasses, scanning the beautiful interior again once she had them on. It was tasteful and peaceful and didn’t match the memory of Emit in her head.
Cal shut the door and played with the security system. Maggie shook water off her fur and trotted around, sniffing at various pieces of furniture. Bianca removed her shoes and tried to brush off the sand sticking to her feet.
The open living space held two expensive Italian leather couches facing each other in front of a large stone fireplace. Two chairs were positioned nearby in a slightly separate area with an antique side table and floor lamp. The art on the walls—mostly seascapes—looked original. Who knew the scrawny kid with a mop of dirty-blond hair and freckles would grow up to have such nice taste?
Cal was removing his blast jacket. Bianca saw a gun tucked into his waistband as he raised his arms to get the jacket over his head and his shirt rode up on his stomach.
“I didn’t realize you and Emit had stayed in touch.”
“We hadn’t until his sister ended up in trouble.” Cal motioned her away from the front windows. “I couldn’t exactly take you to a friend’s house or anyone you or I have stayed in touch with over the years. If the idiot shooting at you is smart, he’ll have every one of them flagged.”
Just like the way she had with Cal, leading Tephra right to his doorstep. “Take off your shoes.”
He stopped, looked down at his sneakers and back up at her. “What?”
“You’re tracking sand and water all over the floor.”
He did a half eye roll, losing the shoes and looking at her. “Happy?”
“How did you know Emit wouldn’t be here?”
“He’s in risk management and doing a gig for Blue Chip Casinos. They have an international poker tournament in London this week. Figured he’d be out of town.”
Apparently, Cal had figured right. “Since when do you know about poker tournaments in London?”
“I know a few things that might surprise you.”
The foyer was open all the way to the front and he walked past the staircase and another antique, this one a hall table under a large framed mirror on the north wall, to get to it. He checked the door and the windows beside it before seeming convinced everything was secure.
He headed for the kitchen and Bianca followed, not sure what she should do.
The dark floors gave way to creamy travertine. The cabinets were a pretty cherry color and the marble countertops had swirls of a rich brown, white, and a hint of the same cherry color. Muted light bounced off the gleaming stainless steel appliances and four oblong pendant lamps hung from the ceiling over the breakfast bar.
Cal went right to the side-by-side refrigerator and pulled both doors open, scanning the contents. “No fresh milk or fruit, but”—he lifted a bottle of yellow mustard from the door and showed it to her with a grin—“plenty of beer and condiments.”
Beer and mustard. Yum, yum.
Bianca opened a couple of cabinets, pulling out crackers, cereal, and a box of pancake mix. “All is not lost.”
“Cool.” Cal withdrew a couple of bottled waters from the fridge and set them on the counter. “We have food, water, and a roof over our heads for the next few hours. We can sort out what’s going on and make a plan.”
A few hours? Then where would they go? Like Cal had said, they couldn’t exactly go to friends or family. Tephra would be watching them, and who could they trust in government?
At this point, no one.
“I’m going to check upstairs.” Cal pointed at the odd menagerie of food she’d found in the cabinets. “Help yourself to some lunch.”
Bianca hugged herself and leaned back against the counter. Cal’s footsteps grew distant as he climbed the stairs to the second floor. Lunch seemed like a mundane thing to think about when her life was in serious jeopardy.
Then again, it might be her last meal.
Forcing herself to move and do something, anything, to take her mind off of her predicament, she searched the cabinets for a skillet and went to work making pancakes.
Chapter Nine
After double checking they were indeed alone in the house and everything was secure upstairs, Cal stood near the master bedroom’s patio doors. They went out on a second-story deck that looked out over the ocean.
Downstairs, he heard the distant, homey sounds of Bianca moving around in the kitchen. Clanging pots, running water.
They couldn’t stay on the run forever. At some point, he had to get to the bottom of what was going on. He’d had time to think on the boat, but he still had more questions than answers. For the life of him, there was no way he could wrap his brain around the idea that Rory Tephra was alive and well and doing wet jobs for the CIA.
On the flip side, whoever had come after Bianca was good. Prepared, quick, dangerous.
Ground zero. I need to find out where this all started before I can figure out where it’s going.
But first, he needed backup.
Inside the master bedroom’s walk-in closet, he searched for the satellite phone he knew Emit had hidden under a trap door in the floor. After moving some shoes and lifting a corner of carpeting, sure enough, there it was.
Making sure Bianca was still busy downstairs, Cal drew out the phone and punched in the phone number to Rock Star Solutions, Emit’s private division of his risk management business. The high-risk division dealing with protection services.
Cal hadn’t been entirely truthful with Bianca. He and Emit had stayed in touch over the years, Cal referring a few good men Emit’s way for employment with RSS. SEALs who’d left the teams but still had the training and valuable skills his old friend needed to keep high-risk targets and their loved ones protected from the crazies wanting to do them harm.
Ironic that Emit had needed Cal’s team to rescue his sister, but Marlene had always refused to use her brother’s services. After her ordeal with the kidnappers, she still hadn’t returned to Doctors Without Borders, but Cal bet when she did, she took one of Emit’s bodyguards with her.
The call was answered on the first ring. “Rock Star Specialty Services,” a woman answered, cheerful but professional. Her voice was clear and crisp and held no accent. “How may I direct your call?”
Emit had told Cal if he was ever in need of anything to call. Cal had laughed about it. Him needing protection? That would never happen. Sure there were plenty of nuts out there who wanted to take him out, either for revenge or simple sport, but he’d never worried about them.
Now, he wasn’t an
active SEAL. Maybe he never would be again. He could protect Bianca better than anyone else, but only if he knew who the enemy was, how many, and what their mode of operation was.
As it stood, he wasn’t certain about anything. “I need to speak directly to Liber, please.”
Emit had always had a thing for Roman deities and hard rock bands. Liber was the Roman god of freedom, a name Emit had picked as a code word for himself…the protector of freedom.
The woman didn’t hesitate. “Are you in danger?”
“Someone with me is.”
“Is it imminent?”
He sure hoped not. “Not at the moment, no, but it could become that way soon.”
“Are you on a secure line?”
“Yes.”
“Name and problem?”
“Cal. An assassin is after my wife.”
The woman seemed to take this information in stride. “Please hold. Liber is out of the country, so this may take several minutes. Please do not hang up unless your life is in immediate danger and you must take cover. Liber will not be able to call you back.”
“I understand.”
The phone made several clicking noises as he was put on hold. Soft music played in the background. Cal eased toward the closet door, heard Bianca continuing to bang things around in the kitchen, and relaxed for a moment. He sat on the floor and rubbed his eyes, listening to the soothing music and hoping he was doing the right thing.
A minute passed, then another. Cal had been SEAL Team Seven’s leader for a reason. He knew when he needed a unit, or a friend with the right resources, to help him achieve a successful mission. This was definitely one of those times.
Another click and Emit came on the line. “Cal? Is B okay?”
The sound of his old friend’s voice reassured him. “She has a cut on her cheek from a bullet and she’s freaked out, but she’s okay.”
“Are you sure you’re on a secure line?”
“I’m on your sat phone at the vacation house. It better be secure.”
