Undercover Warrior

by Aimée Thurlo

  “All I’ve heard is bad news. What have you got so far, Agent Goodluck?”

  He gave his boss the short version. “I’m on the trail, sir, but I’ve been back less than twenty-four hours.”

  “Yet you’ve already got three bodies stacked up, including a naval reserve officer who was clearly in trouble up to his ass,” he said. “We need answers.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll be in touch.” Kyle muttered a curse as he went back into the house.

  As he entered, Preston was shaking his head. “There’s nothing of interest here, except an expensive strand of pearls, a present meant for Frieda Martinez, based on the attached card.”

  “Frieda mentioned wanting a strand and he decided to buy it for her, though personally I thought it was much too soon for that kind of gift,” Erin said, coming over.

  “I’m getting the idea you didn’t like Frieda,” Kyle observed.

  “No, it’s not that. Like Hank, I barely knew her.” She paused, then continued. “There’s something you should know about Hank. Business was good, and for the first time in years, Hank was bored and restless. Then he met Frieda and his whole attitude changed. He was crazy about her, but as I said, they’d only known each other for a few weeks.”

  Kyle listened carefully. To him, Hank was beginning to sound like a man going through a midlife crisis and looking for excitement. Maybe that’s how he’d been recruited. Money wasn’t always the motivator.

  “Did you ever meet Frieda face-to-face?” Kyle asked.

  “Yeah, a few times when she came to the office to meet Hank for lunch,” Erin answered.

  “And?” Kyle pressed.

  “She was polite to me, but not friendly.”

  “Any chance she’s from Spain?”

  “I don’t know. She has a faint accent, something I associate with English as a second language, but that’s all I can say for sure.”

  “Preston, get an address on her, then let’s go talk to her,” Kyle said and saw his brother nod. “Erin, I’d like you to come in with us, too. Seeing a familiar face, one Hank trusted, might help.”

  “Okay.”

  Kyle led her toward the door, sticking close to her side. Until he knew for sure whether Erin was his best asset, or an enemy, he should keep her under guard; he wouldn’t let her out of his sight.

  * * *

  THEY WERE ON their way moments later. “Nice, safe speed,” she said. “I was beginning to think that driving under eighty miles per hour wasn’t part of your M.O.”

  “Cop speak?” he asked, grinning.

  “Hey, I watch TV,” she said. She was silent for several long moments, then finally spoke again in a heavy voice. “There’s something I still don’t get. You pulled into Secure Construction just as those men were attempting to kidnap us. That wasn’t a coincidence. I think you were expecting trouble, but if that’s true, why didn’t you come sooner, before it could go that far?”

  “I went over as soon as I got the call to interview Hank. I had no way of knowing what was going to happen. I think the only person that wasn’t taken by surprise was Hank.”

  “Maybe so,” she answered in a quiet voice. “I thought I knew Hank, but this.... Maybe nobody ever knows anyone,” she added, looking directly at him. Despite the steadiness of his gaze, there was a barrier there, a point where the proverbial shutters came down and she wasn’t allowed to see past. He was ostensibly one of the good guys, but it was hard to trust someone who clearly didn’t trust her.

  “Do we have a problem?” he asked, as if he’d read her mind.

  “Maybe. I want to trust you, Kyle, but you’re not who you say you are, and you’re keeping things from me. When someone else decides what I should and shouldn’t know, that makes me nervous.”

  “It shouldn’t. I’m on your side. You’ve seen that already.”

  “You say you’re keeping me with you so you can protect me, but if I’m in danger, why aren’t we holed up in some safe place?”

  “Your best bet is to stay on the move with me. I’m not in a position to trust anyone else with your safety, except my brothers, and they have their own work to do right now. If you’re with me, you might also see something that jogs your memory, a detail that could be important. You’ve been working with Hank for quite a while.”

  “I’m not connected to whatever mess Hank was in. I work hard, and my long-term goals have nothing to do with violence, control, or whatever these killers are after. I want to make a living farming the land. Check my background, and you’ll see I’m exactly who I say I am.”

  “Whether you like it or not, you’re involved, and you can’t reason with these people, or fight them alone. You need me. I’m good at what I do, and I’ll keep you safe.”

  “What happens tonight? Once you drop me off at home, I’ll be on my own anyway.”

  “You can’t go home. Not yet. I can’t just put an officer near your door and hope for the best.”

  “You think that the men who killed Hank have someone inside the police department?” she asked, reading between the lines.

  “I don’t know, so I’d be gambling with your life. As far as my not being completely open with you,” he added, “in my job, everything is on a need-to-know basis.”

  “I suppose that explains why you took something from the box on Hank’s desk and put it in your pocket without telling anyone, including the police.” Although she knew what it was, for now, she’d say nothing.

  “I gave it to Preston when he and I were alone. He’ll sign it over to my brother Daniel who has the security clearance needed to find out what we need to know. I also sent a photo of it to my boss.”

  “There’s a whole lot more to that story, but okay—for now.”

  “Take me at face value.” Kyle gave her a disarming smile. “I’m your bodyguard.”

  Her skin prickled with awareness. Kyle was high voltage excitement, a force of nature, adventure waiting to happen. Danger clung to him like an unholy aura. Considering that she was in a life-or-death fight, staying with Kyle was her best option.

  “I’m really not bad company,” he said, his eyes dancing.

  Her heart began beating overtime. “I’m sure you’ve got a long list of women who love spending time with you. Things are always happening when you’re near. It’s like a wild roller coaster ride, periods of calm are just the prelude to the next spiraling downturn.”

  “That’s quite a compliment.”

  “I don’t like roller coasters, I like paddle boats.”

  “Up to now,” he said with a playful grin, then pulled to the side of the road and parked just to the right of a small cottage. “Okay, this is it. We’re here.”

  “What a beautiful little casita. Frieda’s got good taste,” she said.

  Freshly watered red and yellow miniature roses, covered in their last big blooms of the season, bordered the path to the door and glistened in the late afternoon light. As she walked up the narrow sidewalk, Erin relaxed, more concerned now about keeping her shoes dry and avoiding the small puddles on the concrete.

  As she glanced at Kyle, she could see the tension in his body. He kept looking from window to window, his hand on the butt of his pistol. His reaction seemed out of place. “Frieda’s already met me, so why don’t you let me introduce you?”

  “Fine,” he said, in a clipped tone.

  “Frieda, it’s me, Erin,” she called out as they reached the front porch. Erin knocked on the front door, and as she did, it creaked open about an inch.

  Kyle suddenly grabbed her by the waist and pulled her away. “Stay back. Don’t touch anything!”

  Chapter Six

  “You think there’s a burglar inside?” Erin whispered, startled and trying to catch her breath.

  “No, I think the door’s wired.” Kyle examined
the locking mechanism, then leaned forward and sniffed the air. “I smell sulfuric acid. Get behind the SUV and stay low. There’s a bomb inside.”

  “Should I call the bomb squad?”

  “No. Do not make any phone calls. You might trigger something. Just hang tight, I’m going in through the back,” he said, then jogged down the side of the house and disappeared around the corner.

  She stayed behind the SUV for five of the longest minutes of her life, watching the house through the windows. Then the front door slowly opened.

  “It’s safe now,” he called out. “I disarmed the device by separating the chemicals, but circle around and come in through the back door anyway.”

  Erin headed across the damp lawn, trembling hands jammed into the pockets of her slacks. Her shoes were getting wet, but that touch of normality became a welcome distraction. Her entire world was spinning out of control. Every time she took a breath, something bad seemed to happen.

  Kyle was waiting for her at the back door and let her into a small kitchen.

  Erin looked around. Everything was nicely arranged and clean, but it looked like a model home, or one listed for sale—impersonal and without a soul.

  She expelled her breath in a low hiss. “Yesterday, my life was so completely normal—water the plants before going to work, eat breakfast, clean up, go to the office, come home, fix dinner, check the garden. I had my routines worked out so I could fit everything in. It was perfect.”

  He stared at her as if she’d begun speaking in a foreign language. “That’s your idea of perfect?”

  “For me, it is. Life is complicated enough, always throwing curveballs and putting up barriers to keep you from where you want to go. That’s why I try to anticipate everything, so I can always be prepared. Now, things that make no sense are happening minute by minute. Like this,” she said, waving toward the front door. “Someone wanted to blow up this beautiful cottage. Do you think this is connected to the people who went after Hank and me?”

  “My guess—yes,” he said, leading the way into the living room. “Give me a minute. I need to call my brother.”

  Erin remained where she was and listened in.

  “I found a crude but generally effective incendiary device,” he said. “There was a container of what looked to be potassium chlorate and sugar, along with a vial of sulfuric acid. That would generate intense heat once they combined. Add to that the bottle of camp-stove fuel only a few inches away. Had we pushed the door open enough to step inside, the acid would have spilled, setting off a real inferno,” he said, then walked to the hearth. “From what I see here, someone, probably Frieda Martinez, burned some papers in the fireplace. From the scent, lighter fluid was the accelerant.”

  With a gloved hand, he reached into the soot-filled mess. “There’s a driver’s license that’s melted pretty bad, but I can still make out most of the numbers,” he said, and read them off. “I’ve got most of the photo, too. Hang on.” He snapped a picture of it with his phone camera, and pressed a few icons. “I’ve just sent it to you. Call me back once you have more on Martinez. She’s cut her hair real short since this photo was taken, but I caught a glimpse of her behind the wheel during the kidnapping attempt and the photo is a good match. I’m guessing she was also driving the van when the ambulance was attacked.”

  Several minutes later, Preston called Kyle back. Kyle set the phone down on the table, putting it on speaker as he searched the room.

  “Bad news,” Preston said. “With the exception of her address, the rest of the personal information that was on the license is pure fiction. Since you wanted me to keep things low key, I’ve asked Daniel to look into this. Our brother Paul’s working there, too. He’s a major tech geek so you’ll have more information soon.”

  “Good. That’s backup I can trust.”

  “Gene’s also available if we need manpower, but for now he’s at the ranch,” Preston said. “Speaking of using backup, you shouldn’t have tried to disable that device on your own. We have specialists who deal with that kind of thing.”

  “I’m trained to disarm IEDs and incendiary devices that the local bomb squad has probably never even seen,” he said. Stepping over to a desk near the corner, but not touching anything, he continued. “I think Frieda took a laptop with her. I can see a faint dust outline on the desk.”

  Erin followed Kyle down the hall to the bedrooms. He’d picked up the cell phone and turned off the speaker so she couldn’t hear what was being said. She glanced around Frieda’s bedroom. There were no knickknacks, or plants, or personal items that might reveal something about her.

  The second he ended the call, Erin cleared her throat. “I know you have a plan, and I’d like to know what that is.”

  “What I do next depends on what happens now. At the moment, I’m looking for any kind of lead. Try to relax,” he said, continuing his search.

  “Relax? Are you crazy? People want to kidnap me, my boss was murdered, and although it may seem trite, it’s nearly six and I haven’t had anything to eat all day.” She almost cringed. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

  He gave her a gentle smile. “I’ve pushed you too hard and haven’t given you a chance to process things. I’m sorry, Erin,” he said. “Stick with me just a while longer, then we’ll go get something to eat.”

  “Let me go home, please, even if it’s just for a little bit. I can do normal things there, and after that, maybe I’ll be able to think straight.”

  “That’s too big a risk. I’ll take you somewhere safe, and we’ll pick up dinner on the way. A full stomach and sleep can make all the difference in the world.”

  “No way I’m sleeping tonight. I’m just too keyed up.”

  “By the time we get to the safe house, and you’ve had down time, it’ll come naturally.”

  “Maybe,” she said, still unconvinced.

  He looked around the room one last time, then took her back out to the SUV. “We know Frieda has been working to change her looks. Her hair is now very short. Next, she’ll probably change the color, or wear a wig. I only got a quick look at her, so as it stands now, I’d have trouble picking her out of a lineup. Do you think you’d still be able to recognize her?”

  “Yes. There’s one thing Frieda can’t change. I think she broke her nose at one point, and it left a bump that isn’t unattractive, but it’s impossible to hide.”

  “Good to know,” he said, then smiled as they got underway. “See that? You’re already getting the hang of it. Before we’re through, you might decide to open your own P.I. firm.”

  She stared at him, wondering if he’d lost his mind.

  He laughed. “Your problem is that you want to operate from an itinerary, and criminal investigations don’t work that way.”

  “I like structure. If you really do work for the government, you have rules and procedures you have to eventually follow, too. Without direction—knowing where you’re going and what you have to do—all you have is confusion.”

  “I do have a process, but it’s not set in stone. When I’m on the trail, I follow whatever leads turn up. So far my only one is Frieda Martinez. I saw a waitress uniform in her closet, and a matchbook from the Quarter Horse Bar on her nightstand.”

  “I missed that,” she admitted.

  “Okay, let’s focus on what you did see.”

  “I wasn’t searching for anything specific. I was watching you and waiting for you to finish speaking to your brother.”

  “You were still there, and while you were waiting, you were also glancing around,” he said. “Think back.”

  “The bed was unmade, the closet door open and there were a few days’ worth of dirty clothes on the floor along with a couple of pairs of shoes. Two pairs of shoes? Every woman I know has more than four pairs. Also, there were no plants, stuffed animals or little decorator tou
ches anywhere. I found that strange. Most women like to surround themselves with the things that make a house a home.”

  “Good observations,” he said. “What else?”

  “The calendar. Some of the days had penciled-in dots. There was one on the first Monday of the month, then another on the following Thursday.”

  “See that? You’re aware of more details than you realize.”

  “Maybe so, but that doesn’t tell us anything. I sure wish I could think of something that would make these people crawl back under whatever rock they came from.”

  “Experience tells me not to expect easy answers. Stay alert. Any change, like the calendar details you spotted, may eventually tell us something important.”

  Erin had hated change as far back as she could remember, but she’d always consoled herself with the thought that it eventually brought something good. This time she couldn’t envision any way that could happen.

  He reached over and placed his hand over hers. It was hard, calloused and strong, but his touch was gentle. “You’ll get through this, Erin. I’m a good judge of character, and you’re tougher than you realize.”

  “I’m strong and I can take care of myself, but this...”

  “Is why I’m here,” he answered.

  She glanced out the window. He was so sure of himself, it was tempting to let go of caution and just lean on him. She’d seen him fight and knew he was a formidable adversary.

  Yet even though they were on the same side, when she looked at him, she saw a more immediate danger. She was drawn to Kyle, even though she knew the attraction was foolish and downright dangerous.

  Kyle reminded her of the hollyhock plant that had blown into her yard a few months ago, probably pulled up as a weed from a neighbor’s property. She’d tried to cultivate it, but it never developed the roots it needed to survive the wind storms that followed. One morning she’d discovered that it had been swept away.

  After Kyle found the answers they both needed, he’d also be gone without a trace. It was the nature of his job, and of a man who would choose that profession.