Undercover Warrior

by Aimée Thurlo

  “Number four looks like a big deal,” Kyle said. “I’ve been out of the country for a couple of years, so I’m not up on tribal affairs. But what does a uranium mining company from Spain have to do with the dedication of a new tribal water pipeline?”

  “A large percentage of the water delivered by this pipeline system is going to be used in a big test for an underground uranium extraction process. The water and other chemicals will be used to leach out uranium,” Daniel explained.

  “And the Spanish company is hoping to learn from this so they can enhance their own uranium extraction capabilities,” Paul added.

  Kyle thought about it a moment. “Daniel, do a search for groups in Spain protesting uranium mining and nuclear power plants. While I was over there, I recall hearing about attacks on those types of operations. Mining equipment was being blown up and company officials murdered.”

  Daniel quickly found the name of three suspected groups carrying out attacks on the Spanish nuclear-power industry.

  He looked over at Kyle. “These people are motivated and ruthless. Unfortunately, based on reports from Spanish law-enforcement agencies and Interpol, no suspects have ever been positively identified. There are descriptions, and grainy photographs, but nothing more.”

  “I need to send them the photos of the dead perps. Maybe these will help establish some connections with individuals over there. We need to know if we’re dealing with some of the same people.”

  “I’ll send an email to Preston and his boss right now,” Daniel replied.

  “And to my supervisor, via Preston. Sign my name,” Kyle added.

  “This is our best lead yet,” Kyle said. “From what I’m seeing on the screen, the dedication ceremony for the tribal water resource project provides bigger targets than these Spanish businessmen. It doesn’t specify, but I have a feeling you already know who’s on the guest list,” he added, looking at Daniel.

  “Yeah, my firm’s handling part of the security, but all I can tell you is that we’re expecting some big guns from the Washington, D.C. area. They’re high-priority targets, by anyone’s standards.”

  “We’ve all got clearance here, so don’t hold back,” Kyle insisted.

  “These people are way above your pay grade, bro,” Daniel said. “Cabinet members, and maybe more.”

  “Will it make headlines?” Kyle asked, refusing to back off.

  “Oh, yeah,” Daniel said.

  “What’s the date for that dedication?” Kyle pressed.

  “It’s in three days. The guest list won’t be announced until the last minute because of political bickering back in Washington.”

  “Now I’m beginning to understand why my boss was willing to blow my mission by sending more agents down,” Kyle said.

  “This is heavy-duty stuff,” Paul said. “You have to stay sharp even though hanging out with Erin’s going to distract you. That woman’s hot.”

  “Watch your mouth,” Kyle growled, then the instant he saw Paul smile, knew he’d been had.

  “I’m right, aren’t I? You like her. That means you’re not thinking with your head, you’re thinking with your—” Paul stopped short as Holly walked into the room.

  “What? Did I disturb guy talk, or is this secret spy talk?” she asked with a tiny smile.

  Daniel walked over and kissed her gently. “What do you need, sweetheart?”

  “We had a small accident cleaning up in the kitchen and Erin needs a change of clothes. I’ve got some shirts and jeans here so I thought we’d go to the back room so she could try them out. Will you need her for something right away?”

  “No. We’ll be here for a while longer,” Kyle said. “And thanks, Holly. I’ll make sure you’re reimbursed later.”

  “No need. I just wanted you all to know where we were going to be,” Holly said.

  After she walked out, Daniel glanced at Kyle. “You could use a change of clothes, too, dude. You wash that shirt in hot water? It must have shrunk two sizes.”

  “It’s not mine. It was all I could get at Preston’s safe house.”

  “I think we still wear the same shirt size, so take what you need out of the closet down the hall before you leave,” Daniel said.

  Paul cleared his throat. “If you ladies are through discussing fashion, there’s something I’d like to show you.” He pointed to the screen as his brothers came over to join him. “Decryption software didn’t turn up any hidden messages between Erin Barrett and the deceased.”

  “No surprise there,” Kyle said. “Can you run a comprehensive background check on Bruce Leland for me? He’s the vic’s brother. Also, see what you can get on Mike Bewley. He worked for Hank, but was fired before Leland went to Spain. And if you get a photo of the man, pass it along to Daniel so he can add it to those images going to Spain and Interpol.”

  “Will do. Full background checks take time, but you’ve got less than three days, so give me some room, and let me see what I can do,” Paul said.

  * * *

  ERIN ZIPPED UP the jeans she’d borrowed from Holly without having to take in a breath. “These fit just right.”

  Holly smiled wistfully. “After the baby, those are still too tight for me, so you’re welcome to them.” Hearing a dull thump, Holly winced. “Uh-oh.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The guys are in the gym, sparring or wrestling. They love to compete and test themselves whenever they get the chance. They’re just messing with each other, but I’ve yet to figure out why they enjoy that so much.”

  “Sparring? You mean a fist fight?” she asked, her voice rising slightly.

  “No. We wives insisted they use padded boxing gloves and put mats on the floor,” Holly said. “They said we were taking away all the fun, but we refused to yield.”

  “But why fight each other now? We’re in the middle of a battle.”

  “It’s not really like that,” Holly said. “I bet Daniel and Kyle were looking for a way to unwind, especially Kyle.”

  “Not Paul?”

  Holly shook her head. “When he was a Federal Marshal he got shot, and there was a lot of damage. He doesn’t say much about it, but I only saw him spar once, and that was with Daniel.”

  They heard boisterous laughing, then a curse.

  “You want to go see?” Holly asked, smiling. “I never get tired of seeing my hubby without his shirt on.”

  “Kyle...too?”

  “Yep, they strip to the waist.”

  “Then what are we waiting for?” Erin said, following Holly down the hall.

  Erin couldn’t take her gaze off Kyle. He was quick as lighting, dodging his brother’s jabs and matching him blow by blow. It wasn’t much of a fight, really. They knew each other’s best moves and most of their punches were blocked or dodged.

  Erin watched Kyle’s muscles tighten and flex. She would have given anything to run her hands over him and snuggle into that beautiful, bronzed chest.

  “They do this for fun, can you believe it? I don’t get it, but it’s sure nice to watch,” Holly said.

  “Yeah, it is,” Erin admitted, letting her imagination run free.

  Finally Paul came over to the ropes and called out. “Guys, give it a rest. It’s time to get back to work.”

  They broke up instantly, fist bumping with their boxing gloves before taking them off. Erin saw Kyle reach toward the chair that held his shirt and pick up a leather cord with a small pouch attached to it. He slipped it around his neck just as Daniel, standing about four feet away, did the same.

  “What’s in those leather bags?” Erin asked Holly quietly.

  “All the brothers carry their own medicine pouches. They’re gifts they received from Hosteen Silver,” she said. “There’s a lot more to it than that, but Kyle will have to tell you the rest.”<
br />
  Erin watched as the men shrugged into their shirts and hurried back to the computer room. Curious as to what Paul had found, she followed.

  As she entered the room, Erin heard Paul mention a six-figure sum of money. “That’s what he owed them, but he managed to pay most of it back by selling off his car and house.”

  “Who?” she asked.

  “Bruce Leland,” Paul answered.

  Holly appeared a moment later with Preston. “Here’s everyone, Preston,” she said, then smiled at the others. “I’ve got to get going, guys.” Looking at Erin, she added, “You’re in good hands.”

  “Just in time, bro,” Kyle said. “Get the emails?”

  “Yeah. Everything we have ID-wise is on the way to Spain and Interpol HQ,” Preston replied. “What’ve you got?”

  He took a quick look at the computer screen. “Bruce, huh? That’s some gambling debt,” he said. “I found out that Bruce also has a record for passing bad checks. He barely managed to stay out of jail.”

  “Hank knew about his brother’s gambling habit and didn’t trust him,” Erin said.

  “So what else have you found out since that last email?” Preston asked.

  Paul filled him in on their theory concerning the water pipeline dedication. “Sounds like you might have nailed their motive and target, but three days isn’t a lot of time,” Preston said. “What’s the plan?”

  “We all work on this exclusively for the next forty-eight hours. If we don’t get anything substantial, we have two choices. Cancel the event, which means the remaining terrorists will disappear into thin air, or let it go on as scheduled, and bring more agents down. If we do that, we run the same risk,” Kyle said. “Bottom line—it’s up to us to get results.”

  “We’re in this with you all the way,” Preston said.

  Kyle saw Daniel nod.

  “Time to get down and dirty,” Kyle said. “Let’s make some waves and see what surfaces.”

  As Kyle’s phone rang, he glanced down at the screen. “It’s Joe Pacheco,” he said, answering it.

  “I’m calling from my vehicle. I’m in a dangerous situation and I can use some backup,” Joe said, his tone all business.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I’m with law enforcement now, so I’m going to put you on speaker,” Kyle said. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I sent my family away in our RV, and just to make sure they left town okay, I decided to follow them for a while,” Joe said. “That’s when I spotted a dark blue van keeping pace with them. I came up behind it, then passed, letting the driver see me at the wheel. When I turned off, the van followed me instead of my family. It looks like I’m the target, not them.”

  “The van’s still following you?” Kyle asked.

  “Yeah,” Joe answered, giving them his current location.

  “So let’s put the squeeze on them,” Preston said, reaching for his car keys.

  “Got that, Joe?” Kyle added.

  “Copy. They follow me, and you find a way to trap the van between us. I’m in,” Joe replied.

  “Okay, keep moving and work your way toward the west side of town if you can. Try to stay on streets with enough traffic so they can’t risk forcing you over,” Kyle said, gesturing to Erin to follow him as he brought out his SUV keys. Daniel and Preston were already heading toward the door.

  “Once we’re en route, update me on your location and we’ll set up a pattern so we can close in,” Kyle said.

  Three minutes later, connected via phones or radio, they were headed east toward the city, which was only a few miles away. Joe was trying to buy time by making sure he caught all the traffic lights.

  “Where you at now, Joe?” Kyle said as they reached the business area of Main Street. Beside him, Erin tracked their movements on the GPS display. Although both of them were familiar with the city’s layout, he’d been gone for months. She was more likely to know of any recent road work or changes in traffic patterns.

  Joe’s voice was louder than normal, but to Kyle, it sounded more like the result of a rush of adrenalin rather than fear. “I’m going west past Orchard, but if I go much farther, it intersects with Melrose, and there’ll be no side roads for your people to close in.”

  “He could take a left onto Fourteenth Street,” Erin suggested, pointing to the map on the screen.

  “Good idea,” Kyle said. “Go with it, Joe, and stay in the left-hand lane, like you’re looking for a particular street,” Kyle said. “Copy?”

  “Copy that,” Joe replied.

  “Preston, Daniel, you copy?” Kyle snapped.

  “Copy,” Preston responded crisply. “I can approach from Hilton, reach Fourteenth ahead of Joe, then take the lead.”

  Daniel joined in. “I’m only a block behind Preston. “I’ll wait until Joe’s vehicle passes, and cut in between him and the van. Hopefully, the van isn’t following too close.”

  “It’s keeping its distance, about a block and a half behind me,” Joe said. “There’s a stop sign at the intersection ahead, correct?”

  Kyle looked over at Erin, who glanced away from the GPS and nodded.

  “Correct,” Kyle affirmed. “I’ll be coming up behind the van.”

  Before long, Kyle spotted the suspect’s vehicle and slowed, keeping pace.

  Erin used a pair of binoculars from Kyle’s glove compartment to read the van’s license tag. She wrote it down on a piece of notebook paper, then showed it to Kyle. He read it to the others.

  “Roger that,” Preston said. “Traffic around here is thinning out, so let’s make our move. Jump lanes and take the next right as quickly as you can, Joe, but don’t signal.”

  “We’ll cut him off, and Kyle will close in from behind,” Paul, riding with Daniel, added.

  Kyle glanced quickly at Erin who was sitting up straight, anticipating the next few minutes. “Stay down,” he said in a quiet, calm voice.

  Ahead, Joe suddenly changed lanes and swerved onto the side street, taking the corner with squealing tires. Preston slammed on his brakes, then skillfully skidded sideways, blocking the road. Daniel tried to pull up even with the van, but the van quickly slowed, slipping behind Daniel’s vehicle. In a bone-jarring move the driver leaped the median, and raced back in Kyle’s direction.

  “Hang tight!” Kyle yelled, cutting his speed, swerving the steering wheel to the left, and spinning completely around in a bootlegger’s one-hundred-eighty-degree turn.

  “We’re going the wrong way!” Erin yelled.

  “Not for long,” Kyle replied. “Brace yourself.”

  Kyle edged to his right, leaped up onto the median with a thud, then dropped down onto the street, now only a half a block behind the fleeing van.

  “Stay with him,” Preston called over the radio.

  The van was doing at least eighty-five down a city street, but there wasn’t much traffic. Kyle had put on his blinkers and was leaning on his horn, trying to warn drivers out of the way.

  When they reached Main Street, the van took a chance and ran the light. “Can we make it?” Kyle asked Erin, whose eyes were everywhere searching for oncoming cars.

  “We’re clear.”

  They raced out of the city, up a two-lane road that led onto the south mesa and into the oil and gas fields that blanketed the Four Corners.

  The van slowed as the highway curved right, and Kyle was able to close the gap. “Preston, what’s your location?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

  “I’m bogged down. Emergency stop to avoid a TA. You on Route 135?”

  “Affirmative. I’m closing in on the van. Where’s Daniel?”

  “Right behind me,” Preston said. “We’re caught between vehicles.”

  Erin looked over at Kyle, her eyes wide. “Now what?�
�

  “We’re not losing them again,” he answered, wishing Erin were somewhere safe right now. What he really wanted to do was run those suckers off the road.

  “He’s slowing way down,” Erin said, pointing ahead. “Why?”

  The van’s back door flew open, and bright lights flickered from inside.

  Smudges suddenly appeared on the windshield accompanied by loud thumps. “Duck down, Erin.”

  Kyle was grateful for the bullet-resistant glass, but visibility was getting iffy. The front end rattled from a series of bullet strikes, then there was a loud whoosh.

  * * *

  “THAT SOUNDS BAD,” Erin said, her voice shaky. “Did they hit the engine?”

  Kyle looked down at the instrument panel. The temperature gauge was moving in the wrong direction—up. “They must have hit something in the radiator, taken out a hose or damaged the water pump.”

  “So this isn’t a tank after all,” Erin muttered.

  “It’s supposed to protect the passengers, not shoot it out with...” He almost said terrorists, but, then again, she’d heard that already.

  “Preston, you still there?” Kyle asked.

  His answer was barely audible over the engine sounds. “Yeah, what’s happening?”

  “My cooling system took a lucky hit. I’m close to redlining, and I’m losing speed—and the van,” he said, watching the taillights ahead fade.

  “Pull over before the engine seizes up. I’m trying to track down a helicopter to take up pursuit. I should be able to reach you in ten minutes or less. I’m losing you....”

  “Preston? Daniel?” Kyle called out, then looked over at the display. Their signal was lost. The massive power lines paralleling the road here were interfering with the satellite relay.

  Smelling the engine overheating and seeing steam rising from the hood, Kyle pulled over to the shoulder. Erin was sitting up now and staring out the side window.

  “I can see the lights of the city back there somewhere, but nothing close. It’s lonely out here,” she said. “Think that van will turn around and come back for us once they realize we’re out of commission?”

  “I don’t know,” Kyle answered, wishing he could have sounded more reassuring. At the moment he could still make out taillights, which was a bad sign. “It looks like they’ve stopped, which means we can’t stay here.”