Protector (Copper Mesa Eagles Book 3)

by Roxie Noir

  “Yes,” Ellie said.

  “You know,” Tom said, his voice dropping. “I’ve always suspected that there might be a sleeper cell right here in Blanding.”

  Shit, thought Ellie.

  “Sometimes, at night, you see fires way up in the hills,” he went on. “And if you go up there, no one’s there. They’re just empty fires. I think it’s a signaling method. That the terrorists use.”

  It’s teenagers, Ellie thought. There’s nothing to do but get drunk around a fire in the middle of nowhere, and when adults come up, they run away.

  “I’ll have someone look into that,” she said.

  “Sometimes, when I make a phone call from my house, the line is very staticky,” he went on. “But only sometimes. Am I being listened to? By the terrorists?”

  It took Ellie another twenty minutes to get off the phone.

  Chapter Three

  Garrett

  Garrett stood back and looked at the wall. It had taken him all week to get it set up again in his new sublet here in Grand Junction, but it made everything so much easier.

  The pictures, posters, and shelves that had covered the wall were stacked in one corner. They were stacked carefully, but he still had the feeling that the lady who’d rented him her apartment for two months might not be thrilled about what he was doing.

  He sat on the brown leather couch that he’d dragged to face the wall, sat, and looked at it. Garrett tried to always sublet apartments from women, because frankly, their places were just nicer. They usually felt a little homier, more lived-in.

  The last place he’d rented from a guy had been a bachelor in Madison, Wisconsin, and it had been a little depressing. Nice enough, and it had all the right amenities, but it just didn’t feel like a place where someone lived.

  Garrett leaned back and put his arms on the back of the sofa, looking at the wall.

  I can never have a girl over here, he thought. This makes me look like a serial killer.

  At the very top, up against the ceiling, was an index card with a question mark on it, red string connecting it to three other cards.

  On the left, his parents. In the middle, his brother Seth. On the right, his brother Zach. Crammed between Zach and the ceiling, like he’d remembered at the last minute, was an index card with his own name.

  Every card but his own had the word SHIFTED written in red in the lower right-hand corner. Seth was connected with short red string to a card that said QUARCOM. Zach was connected the same way to MUTAGEN, and below those, was a mess of notes, maps, spreadsheet printouts, and a million other things.

  In the next room, on the kitchen table, three computer monitors hummed away. Garrett knew he could have set this up electronically, and it would have been a lot easier to move stuff around, but this way made it easier for him to think.

  Okay, he thought. So think.

  He stared at the wall for a moment.

  Think Ellie’d go on a date with me? He wondered. Maybe I can just call her to pull her off this case, and then ask her out or something.

  I wonder if she’d say yes, but maybe she’s married. Maybe she’s seeing someone.

  Just the thought darkened his mood and made something in him seethe. He looked at the wall and read the names over and over again, trying not to think about Ellie with someone else.

  After a minute, his phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket. A Grand Junction number.

  “This is Garrett,” he said.

  “Elliott Velasquez,” a familiar voice said on the other end.

  “Hey, Ellie,” he said.

  A grin spread itself across his face.

  “I’ve made some decent progress on your case,” she said.

  Garrett imagined her, sitting in her desk chair, her soft curves in another button-down-shirt-and-pants ensemble.

  “That was fast,” he said.

  “Could you come in tomorrow morning?” she asked. “These things are usually best face-to-face.”

  “I could come in this afternoon,” he said.

  “I’m busy, I’m afraid,” she said, her voice professional and stoic.

  Fuck it, just try, Garrett thought.

  “We could do it over dinner,” he said.

  There was a tiny pause on the other end. Ellie cleared her throat very quietly.

  “I don’t socialize with clients,” she said. “Does tomorrow morning work for you?”

  She suddenly sounded less professional and almost nervous.

  Tomorrow morning would work better if I were bringing you breakfast in bed, he thought.

  “Sure,” he said. “Nine?”

  “Perfect,” Ellie said, sounding relieved.

  They hung up, and Garrett went back to sitting on the couch, staring at the wall, thinking about Ellie in his bed, sheets wound around her.

  * * *

  At eight fifty-five, Garrett walked down Main Street again, in a much better mood than last time. He nodded to a woman wearing a suit and a kid wearing a backpack, practically whistling.

  Then he turned the corner into Ellie’s alleyway and saw the glass on the sidewalk. Someone had shattered her frosted glass door, and as he got closer, he could see shards inside, tracked all the way up the staircase.

  Ellie, he thought. A tight fist of fear closed around his windpipe, and he reached through the shattered door, opened it from the inside, and bolted up the stairs.

  The glass crunched under his feet as he took the stairs two at a time.

  “Ellie!” he shouted.

  No answer. Adrenaline raced through his veins.

  Her door at the top was shattered as well, the broken glass scattered around the landing.

  No blood, he thought. Maybe she’s OK.

  This door hung open and Garret pushed it so hard it slammed into the wall.

  “Ellie?” he shouted, looking around wildly.

  The chairs were toppled over, one of the wooden legs broken. The plants were on the floor, soil scattered everywhere, the pots broken.

  Where is she?! Garrett thought, striding around the office, hands balled into fists. She wasn’t behind the desk or the filing cabinets.

  He threw open a closet door, only to find it filled with office supplies.

  They took her, he thought.

  They took Ellie.

  “AARRGGHH!” he shouted, and kicked at a flowerpot on the ground. The heavy terra cotta cracked and rolled, more dirt spilling out, and Garrett paced across the room, trying to think.

  Those utter fucking bastards, he thought. They can do whatever they want with me, but an innocent woman?

  She has nothing to do with this.

  Then he heard a click in the doorway and whirled around, breathing hard, ready to fight.

  Ellie stood there, pointing a gun at him.

  For a moment they just looked at each other. The hand around Garrett’s windpipe slackened. He felt like he could breathe again.

  “You’re okay,” he said. He put one hand to his forehead, nearly sagging with relief.

  “Did you do this?” she asked, her voice tight.

  “I thought they took you,” he said. “I got here and the place was destroyed, and you were gone, and I just thought the worst.”

  Ellie walked a few steps forward, her high heels crunching over the glass, gun still pointed at Garrett.

  Slowly, he put his hands into the air.

  “I swear I got here thirty seconds ago,” he said softly. “To meet you at nine. Like you said yesterday on the phone.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “Is this why you wanted me to have dinner with you last night?” she asked. “To make sure I was out of the office? So whoever you’re working with could take everything?”

  Garrett looked at the desk.

  Her computer’s gone, he realized. He’d been so convinced Ellie was gone he hadn’t even noticed the missing computer.

  “No,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I just do this in the middle of the night anyway?”

&nbs
p; “Why’d you want me to come to dinner, then?”

  Her brown eyes were hard, almost brittle, and Garrett glanced around the office before answering.

  “Because I wanted to take you to dinner?” he asked.

  Ellie blinked. The gun lowered a fraction of an inch.

  “That’s it?” she asked, her voice less suspicious now.

  Well, no, Garrett said. I also wanted to go back to your place and literally eat you for dessert.

  He thought better of saying that part out loud.

  “Yeah,” he said. “It was just a date.”

  Now she blushed and lowered the gun to point at the floor, though she didn’t put the safety back on.

  “If I check my security video, it’ll show you getting here thirty seconds before me?” she asked.

  “Maybe sixty,” Garrett said. “I got here, there was glass everywhere, I ran upstairs, yelled your name a bunch, and kicked a flower pot.”

  He glanced at the corners of the room, but he didn’t see a camera.

  Ellie put the safety back on the gun, stuck it behind her back, and pulled out her phone, watching it intently for a few moments.

  Garrett walked to her side and looked over her shoulder.

  On the screen was a view of the office from somewhere above and behind the desk. He turned to look for the camera but still didn’t see anything.

  “It’s very small,” Ellie murmured, then nodded at the screen. “That you coming up the stairs right now?”

  “ELLIE!” Phone-Garrett shouted, shoving the door open.

  Do I always look that disheveled? Garrett wondered. I need a haircut.

  Ellie shut off her phone and put it back in her pocket.

  “Looks like you’re in the clear,” she said. “Sorry about that.”

  “Will that thing show you who did break in?” he asked.

  Ellie nodded.

  “The app only goes back an hour unless you pay an extra fifty a month for premium, though,” she said. “I gotta use a computer.”

  She glanced at the desk.

  “Fuck,” she muttered, and walked around the back.

  “You had backups, right?”

  Ellie just nodded, though she seemed preoccupied with something on the back of the desk. Garrett walked around beside her, and a low whistle escaped him.

  All the drawers were open, paper and office supplies strewn around, like whoever broken in had been looking for something.

  Ellie was looking at the top left drawer, though, biting her lip.

  It had a lock on it, or it had. Now it looked like someone had gone after it with a hatchet, the wood splintered and destroyed.

  With one finger, Ellie pulled it the rest of the way open.

  Inside was a checkbook, some keys, and a few dollars in cash. She rooted around in the drawer but came up empty.

  “What was in there?” Garrett asked.

  “The flash drive you gave me,” Ellie said.

  “What else is missing?” he asked.

  Ellie shrugged.

  “I have no idea,” she said. “Besides my computer, at least. I didn’t really have the contents of my desk neatly categorized, you know.”

  She pulled open the wide middle drawer and then froze.

  Inside was nothing but a single sheet of paper.

  Someone had scrawled on it with a sharpie.

  STAY AWAY FROM THE MONSONS

  Garrett’s breath caught in his throat again, and he curled his hands into fists at his sides. He stalked away, stepping on pens and papers and paperclips and a stapler.

  This is my fault, he thought. They did this to her because of me.

  He took a deep breath, staring out the window, then turned around.

  “I’m withdrawing my case,” he said, arms crossed in front of him. “I don’t want you looking into it any more. I’ll pay for everything that got destroyed.”

  Ellie stood behind the desk with her hands on her hips, and she frowned at Garrett.

  “No,” she said.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “I mean I’m working this case,” she said. “Frankly, at this point, I’m going to do it whether you want me to or not.”

  “Are you crazy?” he said, and gestured at her office. “Someone broke in, smashed the place up, and went at your desk with a hatchet. Next time it’ll be you, Ellie.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she said. “And I’m not about to let some bully push me around in my own office.”

  “These people are dangerous, Ellie,” Garrett said, his voice slowly raising. “If this is step one, what do you think step two is?”

  Ellie looked at him, her jaw working.

  “Do you know who did this?” she asked, her voice suddenly soft.

  “No,” he said.

  “Are you lying to me?” she asked, her voice still soft but dangerous.

  Kind of, he thought.

  “No,” he said.

  “Well, this isn’t step one,” she said. “I think this is step two.”

  Anger flared in Garrett again, wild and unpredictable. He nearly snarled.

  “What else did they do?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “You know something, and I know you know something. You’re going to tell me before I go any further.”

  Garrett glanced at the closet.

  I could lock her in there, he thought. Leave, call the police, and she’d be fine in ten minutes and I’d be out of here. I could keep her safe and away from me.

  He looked back at Ellie, her eyes flashing, her jaw set.

  Could I, though?

  He had the feeling that no one told Ellie what to do, and that included him.

  “What if I say no?” he asked.

  “Then it takes me that much longer to figure out who did this,” she said.

  “What would convince you to drop this?” he asked.

  Ellie just snorted.

  Even her stubbornness is kinda hot, Garrett thought.

  “Okay,” he said. “Not here, though. Come with me and do exactly as I say.”

  “Exactly?” asked Ellie.

  “Exactly,” Garrett said.

  He wanted to say let me kiss you, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned and left her office.

  At the door, Ellie paused for a moment and looked back through the shattered glass.

  “You forget something?” Garrett asked.

  “No,” she said. “I just had the weird feeling I wasn’t going to see it again.”

  “You’ll be back in business before you know it,” Garrett said. “Promise.”

  Chapter Four

  Ellie

  Halfway down the stairs, Garrett stopped and turned to face Ellie, his face serious.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  Yes, she thought. Even though I have no reason to.

  “Kind of,” Ellie said.

  He tapped a finger on the bannister and thought for a moment.

  “Would you believe me if I told you I was wrapped up in something strange, and I think that we might be followed once we leave your office?” he asked.

  “That I can do,” she said.

  “Well, that’s all true,” he said. “Stick with me, and act like we’re going to get coffee, or something.”

  Ellie’s heart was already beating madly, and she felt electricity zipping through her nerves.

  You should be calling the police and your insurance company, she thought. Not following someone you don’t know on a wild goose chase.

  This is stupid and probably dangerous.

  She knew she should drop Garrett’s case, get her insurance to pay for a new computer, and forget this had happened, but that wasn’t what she wanted.

  She wanted to find out who’d trashed her office, and who thought they could order her around like that.

  Garrett opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, and for the first time, Ellie realized that his inner forearm was bleeding. She tapped him on the shoulder and pointed, and
he pulled his sleeve down.

  From where he opened the door before, she thought.

  They emerged into the narrow alleyway and Garrett walked to the sidewalk. When they got there, he took her hand, and Ellie’s head whipped around.

  “Pretend,” he murmured, and they walked down Main Street.

  She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back, big and warm and comforting.

  Pretend, she reminded herself.

  First they walked to a coffee shop. The owners waved to Ellie and she waved back as Garrett pulled her past the counter, toward the hall with the bathrooms, then past the bathrooms and out the back door, into a parking lot.

  From there they went into the library through a side door and out through a different side door, down an alleyway, onto one level of a parking garage and out another, and into a grocery store.

  By the meat section, Garrett stopped, dropped her hand, and turned to face her.

  “The bathrooms are there,” he said, pointing. “Go into the women’s. Stay there for three minutes, and when you come out, make a left. If someone looks at you, just give them a professional nod and keep walking. They’ll think you’re from corporate or something. Leave through the loading bay and then go through the hedge and over the fence — it’s an easy fence, don’t worry — and follow the sound of the dryer. Knock once on the gray door next to the AC unit on the first green building.”

  Ellie blinked, holding her breath.

  Bathroom, loading dock, hedge, fence, dryer, green building, gray door by AC unit, she thought.

  “Got it,” she said, repeating it to herself.

  Garrett reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

  “You’re doing great,” he said.

  Then he walked through the swinging doors to the back of the grocery store.

  Ellie went into the ladies’ bathroom and stood there, staring at the toilet. She didn’t have to pee, but after two and a half minutes, she flushed the toilet, washed her hands, and walked out to the left.

  A kid, maybe sixteen, saw her and frowned, but she gave him a professional nod. He looked away, and Ellie almost smiled to herself.

  That was something she used almost every day. If you acted like you were supposed to be somewhere, few people would stop you.