Zero Hour: Brotherhood Protectors World

by Holt, Desiree

  “Sorry to interrupt you, Reed. I just need your ear for a few minutes. I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t important. I promise not to keep you long.”

  Beside her, Morgan tensed, and his fingers tightened for a brief second on her shoulder. Then he nodded at the other man.

  “Of course.” He glanced at Terry. “Think you’ll be okay if I step outside again for a few?”

  “Absolutely I’m meeting a lot of interesting people here. Helps me flesh out your profile. Take your time.”

  She smiled and fiddled with the pin on her blouse, managing to snap some quick shots of Lyle Beckett.

  “Don’t let anyone try to talk you into doing a profile on them,” he joked.

  “No problem.” She smiled at him. “All my focus is on you.”

  In more ways than one.

  “I’ll be right back.” He turned to Beckett. “Let’s walk out on the patio. There are a few people out there but also some private areas.”

  They moved unhurriedly through the crowd, smiling at people as they eased past them.

  Terry stared after them for a moment, wondering why Beckett seemed familiar. She knew she’d remember if she’d ever met him before

  Looking casually around, she saw Nita Gooding huddled at the other side of the room with a small group and for a change not focusing on her. This might be her chance to pick something up. She waited for a count of five before edging her way toward the open glass doors. The way the room was set up there was a little jut in the wall at one end of the sliding door that she could just fit into. Standing there, she would be hidden from outside and hopefully could overhear some of Morgan’s conversation. She had a feeling, of all the people she’d met in the past couple of weeks, this one played a key role in whatever Morgan had planned.

  She was sipping her drink and pretending to study something in an app on her watch when she caught bits and pieces of Morgan’s conversation.

  “Tell them that’s the way it is. If they don’t fucking like it, then they’re finished. And you know what that means.”

  “What I said. If we have to eliminate someone, so be it. This thing is so big we don’t have any wiggle room.”

  “Country will be talking about this for a long time.” A short laugh. “At least, whoever’s left.”

  “Can’t afford any slipups. Need to head for Montana tomorrow. I’ll finish up this business…join you by the end of the week.”

  “Better get inside…”

  “When it’s done.”

  Chapter 3

  Terry knew she’d better make herself scarce before Morgan and Beckett actually walked back into the party. She eased away from where she was standing and headed toward the powder room She managed to make it the crowd to the hallway, glancing over her shoulder to see Morgan back in the big room and scanning the crowd. She turned the corner to the powder room before either man could spot her, slipped in, and closed and locked the door, letting out a breath. She was sure she’d left her listening post before Morgan saw her there, but she needed a few minutes alone to be sure she didn’t look rattled when she joined the man again.

  They were going somewhere, Morgan and Lyle Beckett, she’d heard that much. Somehow she had to find out, however, exactly who was going and where they were headed. Was it a gathering of the rumored militia? How many people would be there? Where would it be? What was it for? What was Beckett’s role, because her well-developed sixth sense told her he was definitely involved.

  And another thing.

  She needed to call Max Jaeger as soon as she got back to the hotel. She’d sent him Lyle Beckett’s name after their first meeting but without any note attached. Tonight she wanted to add her impression of the man plus include the picture. Although she had little enough to give her boss, he was the best at digging deep and digging things out. Meanwhile, she needed to compose herself before she went back into the main area of the house. Over the course of the last couple of weeks, she’d watched how accurately Morgan read people. She needed to make sure her face was a blank.

  She opened the door to the powder room and looked both ways down the little hallway. The noise of the party overflowed into it, but no one was standing there, at least for the moment. But as she headed back toward the gathering, Nita Gooding rounded the corner from that direction, apparently also on the hunt for the same thing.

  Now she stared at Terry with narrowed eyes.

  “Looking for something? There’s nothing that way except a bathroom.”

  “Which is just where I’m coming from.” Terry smiled and gestured toward the open door.

  “Oh! Of course. How silly of me. That’s right where I’m heading.” She started past Terry then turned around. “You know, if Reed is busy in one of his little private talks at these shindigs, you can always come and hang out with me.”

  “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind. But I like to talk to the people who know Reed. You know, get a well-rounded picture of him.”

  “Oh?” Nita arched an eyebrow. “I was—I mean, a little while ago I saw Reed had just stepped outside for a private conversation, and I noticed you hanging out by the glass doors to the patio, looking a little lost. Were you? Lost, I mean?” Evil curiosity sparked in her eyes. “You wouldn’t be trying to eavesdrop on Reed, would you? I’m not sure he’d be too happy about that.”

  Crap!

  “Of course not.” She pulled out her best professional smile. “I was just catching my breath. But thanks for asking.”

  She turned and walked away, but she could feel the other woman’s eyes boring into her. Damn! It seemed her original sense of Ed Gooding’s wife was right on target. She, Terry, needed to be more careful around her. She thought she’d done a pretty good job of blending in with people tonight and not standing out, but apparently she’d fallen short. She should have paid more attention to where Nita was in the room.

  As nonchalantly as she could, she strolled back into the heart of the party where the socializing was still going strong. Her gaze landed on Lyle Beckett, who watched her with hooded eyes as if he could see right through her. A tiny chill slithered down her spine. This was a man she needed to be very careful around.

  He was standing off to one side now talking to Ed Gooding. When he saw Terry, however, he broke off the conversation and walked over to her.

  “Where’d you disappear to?” he asked. “I came back inside and couldn’t find you.”

  She grinned. “Just a trip to powder my nose. So, Lyle Beckett seems like a fascinating man, although I only exchanged a few words with him. Is he involved in your business?”

  Morgan narrowed his eyes slightly and studied her, as if looking for some kind of clue to her question in her expression.

  “We’ve touched on some joint ventures before but mostly he has his own projects. You only met him for three minutes. Why all the curiosity?”

  “Oh. No biggie, but like I said, he seems like he’d be interesting to talk to. In my line of work, you learn to sense things about people. I thought I would add another dimension to the profile on you.”

  Again, his face was like a mask. “We don’t do enough together to make it worth the effort. Come on, there are some noteworthy people I haven’t introduced you to yet.”

  Okay, then. If she was going to find out more about Lyle Beckett it would have to be through some source other than Morgan. Tonight when she sent Max Jaeger the picture of Beckett, she’d ask him to have someone do deep research on the man. Then he could let her know if she should pursue it further.

  For the next hour, Terry kept a professional smile plastered on her face as they moved from group to group. The people Morgan introduced her to were what she thought of as window dressing. People who knew him as a community leader but had nothing to do with his business or anything he did off the books. If he really was planning something big, they weren’t the people who’d know about it.

  Lyle Beckett, on the other hand, fit the profile of people she was looking for. She’d hoped to have
more time to observe him and see who he interacted with, but Morgan had an on/off switch she’d gotten used to. When he was finished with an event, he was done.

  “Did you enjoy yourself?” Morgan asked once they were in his car heading away from the event.

  “Of course. I enjoy meeting your friends. Helps me get a better picture of you for the profile.”

  He barked a short laugh. “As I’ve told you before, most of the people you’re meeting aren’t friends. They’re business or community acquaintances, but they know enough to give you what you want about me.”

  She glanced over at him. “I haven’t asked you this, but what is that you think I want?”

  “I think you’re looking for the fly in the ointment, as they say.” He turned onto IH-10, heading downtown to where her hotel was. “Something your readers can point to and say I’m not all that.”

  She frowned. “That’s a very cynical way of looking at things. We want this profile to tout your position in the community and your leadership in the arms-manufacturing business. My publisher chose you because he likes what you stand for.”

  “Yeah?” There was a long moment of silence. “Somehow we never discussed this. Exactly what does he believe that is?”

  “Strength. Values. Leadership in a volatile industry. Someone who gives back to the community. Why are you asking me this? We discussed it in our first meeting, remember?”

  He shrugged. “Just checking. You can’t be too careful these days. I’ve been shot in the ass enough to know things aren’t always what they seem. People have hidden agendas.”

  Stay calm. There’s no way he could know your real assignment. No one knows except for me, Max, and a couple of DEA higher ups. Even the publisher doesn’t know the real reason for this setup. It’s all been kept very hush hush.

  “My only agenda is to learn as much as I can abut you so I can write a profile that will make both you and my publisher happy.”

  “You’ll have to excuse my naturally suspicious nature,” he told her. “The business I’m in, believe it or not, is very cutthroat. Plus, we’re always under fire, as you and I discussed, from the gun-control people and those who think we shouldn’t even manufacture weapons.”

  “I’ve asked you about this before,” she said, “and you kind of sidestepped the issue, but how do handle people like that? All the protests and everything.”

  “You met my public relations people. They’re damn good at smoothing out situations. Personally, I choose not to get involved. I’ve learned that in situations like that whatever you say is taken out of context and used against you.”

  “That has to be a difficult way to live.”

  He was silent for so long she wasn’t sure he’d say anything.

  “I chose to go into a business that, pardon the pun, is often under fire, because I believe in the Second Amendment. I also believe in the rights of people to defend themselves against brutality and oppression, which is why we got involved in situations in so many other countries. Believe me, Morgan Arms Manufacturing has taken a lot of grief for arming rebels and the oppressed.”

  “But you’re doing what you believe in,” she pointed out.

  “Not everyone would look at it that way.” He glanced at her. “Not even our government.” He pulled off the interstate and into the downtown area. “But that’s a discussion for another time. Maybe. What I’ve been trying to show you is that we are a law-abiding corporation run by law-abiding people who uphold the Constitution. I support the community and don’t break any laws. Hope that’s the impression I’m giving you.”

  “Of course. That’s one of the reasons we thought you’d be a good subject for a cover profile. I hope I haven’t done anything to make you think differently.”

  He slid a quick glance at her. “Not so far.”

  Whatever else he might have said was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone, resting in a cup holder. Terry tried to see the readout on the screen, but Morgan pulled it up to his ear too fast.

  “Yeah. What’s up? Uh huh. Uh huh. I can’t answer that at the moment. Meet me at my house in fifteen. Yeah. Okay.”

  He disconnected the call and slid the phone back into the holder.

  “Problem?” she asked.

  “There always is in a business this size.”

  “Hope you can at least get some rest.”

  His laugh held no humor. “Rest seems to be for other people.’

  “I’m scheduled to meet with you again tomorrow at nine,” she reminded him. “Will that still be on?”

  “I’ll text you if it changes.

  “Of course.” What else could she say? And what the hell was the phone call about that set up a meeting this late at night? “See you in the morning.”

  She made herself stand in front of the doors and wave to him as he drove off. Then she sprinted across the lobby, waited impatiently for an elevator, and raced to her room. The moment she was inside, with the door double locked, she dug out the coded phone Max Jaeger had given her and punched in his two digit number.

  “It must be hot if you’re calling me this late at night,” he greeted her.

  “I don’t know if it is or not, but somehow we need to find out.”

  She told him everything she could remember about the evening, including the incidents with Lyle Beckett and her reaction to the man.

  “I’m sending you his pictures,” she told him. “I’ve never come across him before so run him through every facial rec program we have. He supposedly owns a hedge fund, which as you know can easily be a conduit for multiple illegal activities. I just get a bad feeling about him.”

  “I trust those feelings, Terry. We’ll check him out ASAP.

  “That same feeling tells me this sudden meeting might be with Beckett. I don’t like that man.”

  “This might be one of the breaks we’re waiting for,” Jaeger pointed out. “See what you can get out of him in the morning.”

  “Will do. And send me anything you get on Beckett.”

  She stripped and pulled on a sleep shirt, climbing into bed with the hope she’d be able to get a few hours of shuteye. Instead she tossed and turned, never sleeping more than a few minutes at a time. By morning, her body was exhausted, and she needed a long shower, a pot of coffee, and an expert makeup job to look and feel semi-human.

  She got to Morgan’s office at quarter to nine, not wanting to be late, especially today. His admin was not at her desk, but his office door was slightly open. She stepped up to it to knock but froze when she heard Lyle Beckett’s voice inside.

  “I’m telling you, Reed, there’s something funny about her.” Beckett’ voice. “There’s something about her that makes my antenna do a jive dance. And Nita Gooding, who may be the bitch of the world but has good instincts, feels the same way.”

  “Nita feels that way about any female she thinks is going to upstage her. This woman’s credentials checked out,” Morgan told him. “I spoke with the publisher myself.”

  “Yeah? Well, who else has she worked for? What other articles has she shown you?”

  “Cut it out,” Morgan snapped. “She had a portfolio and checked out top to bottom.”

  “Those things can be faked,” Beckett reminded him. “I just get very bad vibes from her. Why take a chance? We can’t do that, this close to Zero Hour. You need to get rid of her.”

  “And how do you propose I do that? You don’t think people will pile on if a reporter for American Arms just up and disappears? I didn’t think you were that stupid.”

  “Watch who you’re calling stupid,” Beckett snapped. “You need to find a way. Use that complex brain of yours.”

  “First of all, I can’t just cut the interview short,” Morgan protested. “She’ll be even more suspicious if I do. I mean, if she is at all,” he added. “You’re the only one so far who’s said anything about it.”

  “Because I have the best antennae,” Beckett pointed out. “And not to damage your fragile ego, but I think this whole
magazine profile is a cover for something else.”

  “Like what? I told you I contacted her publisher and her editor both, and they vouched for her.”

  “They could have been forced to,” Beckett pointed out. “Most people have secrets in their background that put them in vulnerable positions. You used to be more like me, not trusting anyone or anything. What the fuck has happened to you?”

  “Nothing.” Morgan’s voice was harsh. “And I don’t need your insults.”

  “Yeah? You don’t think it’s strange that this article comes up right when we’re planning the biggest event this country has ever seen? Bigger than Oklahoma City? Bigger than 9/11?”

  “Believe me, I’m not taking her at face value. I contacted the magazine before I ever agreed to this. I say again, everything checked out. And she hasn’t crossed any lines with her questioning.”

  “Damn, Reed.” Beckett’s voice had an angry edge to it. “You’re usually the one questioning everything.”

  “I always have my suspicions,” Reed pointed out. “But, so far, she’s passed every test.”

  “Then either I’m losing my touch,” Beckett told him, “or she’s a lot better than I give her credit for. You’ve got to handle this. Zero Hour is too big and too important to let some female fuck it up. We’re already moving men to the ranch and starting the drills. We can’t take any chances. Launch day is too close.” Pause. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

  “Assuming you’re right, what do you suggest?”

  “First, we need to up the schedule. Get everyone to Montana, sequester them so there’s no chance for leaks, and, like I said, start running drills.”

  “I can’t argue with that. What else?”

  “Get this woman in a room and find out what the hell is going on, even if you have to beat it out of her.”

  Terry’s stomach clenched. She knew Reed Morgan would have no qualms about torturing her to death to get information. Despite the polite appearance he’d been wearing for her benefit, she knew for a fact he was a ruthless, cold-blooded individual who let nothing step in his way. She had to get out of here, but she wanted to hear the rest of this.