by Jen Talty
“As if you’ve ever made me do that,” his father said, with a roll of his eyes.
“So not the point.” His mother waved a finger.
Shamus tapped his chest with his index finger in rhythm with his heartbeat. His parents had the kind of relationship the world aspired to have, filled with true love, respect, and total devotion. At one time, Shamus thought he’d have that with Amber. “Why don’t we sit and have some coffee.”
“Before I forget.” His father pulled out a phone. “Hank wanted me to give this to you.”
Shamus was going to have to have a talk with Hank about putting his parents in the middle of this mess. He didn’t care that the doctor said his father was healthier than most men half his age, and his mother was a better shot than anyone on the ranch.
“What was he doing at your place this early?” Shamus asked, heading for the kitchen and the coffee maker.
“We called him,” his mother said.
“Why?” Shamus glanced over his shoulder, growing concern seeping into his brain.
“A small package showed up on our doorstep this morning for you with no return address,” his father said.
“Not to mention that no one delivers in these parts this early.” His mother sat at the table, constantly eyeing the door that led to the bedroom. His mother had always loved Amber, and she’d been the one who’d given her the nickname pigtails. He remembered the first time he’d walked into town, hand and hand with Amber when they’d been fifteen, and his mother drove by. She didn’t stop and embarrass him, but she had pulled over, pretending to stop at the drugstore, said hello and slipped him a twenty to buy some ice cream.
“That’s not good,” Shamus said, as he continued making a large pot of coffee, the clock flashing 7:48 in the morning. “I hope you didn’t open it.”
His parents didn’t get the chance to respond as Amber, with all her grace and style, made her way into the kitchen. She wore a pair of fresh jeans that hung loose over her hips and the same tank she’d had on earlier.
“Mr. and Mrs. O’Neil,” she said in a soft voice, but with a sweet smile. The last time they had all been gathered in this room, his parents had to tell them about the accident.
“Please, call us Liam and Megan.” His father pulled back a chair. “You’re still as beautiful as ever.”
“Thank you.” Amber sat at the table, keeping her back stiff, keeping her hands in her lap. “You both look exactly the same.”
His father let out a hardy laugh. “My wife does, but me? I look like a man with one foot in the grave.”
“Say that again, and I’ll embarrass you in front of our son and his friend about how spry you really are.” His mother had never had much of a filter.
“That will just make me look like a stu—”
“Pop,” Shamus said, not wanting to hear about how his parents still had a sex life.
His father shrugged his shoulders. “You’ll be grateful if at my age—”
“I’d really appreciate if we didn’t go there,” Shamus muttered.
“It’s good to see you.” His mother looped an arm over Amber’s shoulder, giving it a good squeeze and thankfully changing the subject. “I’m sorry for the circumstances, but we’ve missed your pretty face around here.”
“That’s sweet of you to say.” Amber glanced in his direction, her eyes filled with a combination of regret and joy, something he understood. “Thank you for letting me stay here.”
“We wanted you in the main house, but it turns out our son was right, and it’s better that you both are here,” his father said.
Shamus set the coffee pot on the center of the table, along with four mugs, a bowl of sugar and powered cream, taking his place next to his father.
“Did something happen?” Amber asked.
“My parents were about to tell me about a package that arrived this morning for me, which forced them to call Hank.” He sipped his coffee, keeping his gaze locked on Amber.
His Amber.
While he’d always thought of her often, he’d nearly married once and been in three serious relationships. They hadn’t worked out for various reasons, but deep down, he always knew Amber had been the only woman for him.
“What was in it?” Shamus asked.
“A medal of honor,” his father said.
“One exactly like you were given.” His mother twirled the spoon in her coffee. “It had what looked like an official note, something about how it was a replacement for the one you lost.”
“I never lost mine,” Shamus said.
“We all know that, but Hank fiddled with it and found a tracking device,” his father said in a grave tone. “I’m thankful it wasn’t a listening device because I had said Amber was here and where the two of you were held up.”
“Is Hank still at our place?” Shamus asked.
“He’s going to send these jerks on a wild goose chase, in hopes to catch them at their own game, giving you some time to go to Buck Mountain.” His father leaned forward, pressing his hands on the table. “He also wanted me to tell you he’s no fool and knows exactly what you have up there, and he’ll send whatever you need.”
Of course, Hank knew. He knew everything.
“But he also told me to tell you not to speak with anyone. You’re going to have to dig solo. He really believes this is coming from someone you know.” His father leaned back, folding his arms. “You two should get moving just in case someone is watching.”
“Pop, maybe you and Mom should take a trip.” Shamus pushed his chair back, the legs screeching against the floor. “Go visit Nana and Pappy or—”
“Hank thinks that would look suspicious right this second,” his mother said, but Shamus heard that stubborn tone before. She wasn’t budging off her land unless someone picked her up, tossed her over their shoulder, and hauled her off.
“Just be careful,” Shamus said.
“You do the same, son.” His father pointed to Amber. “When this is all over, you have to promise us you’ll come over for dinner before you head out of town.”
“I’ll do that.” Amber nodded with a genuine smile.
Shamus watched as his parents embraced Amber, holding her a second longer than acceptable and taking a moment to look into her eyes with only kindness in their hearts, like he knew they always would have. He stood with his arm around Amber’s waist as his parents mounted their horses, his father tipping his hat, before kicking the heels of his stallion, taking off in a full gallop.
“Show off,” his mother muttered, blowing a kiss before doing the same to her mustang, named Pigtails. He wondered if Amber would get a kick out of that or think it crazy.
Chapter 6
SHAMUS HAD been right, riding a horse was like riding a bike. You never did forget, and Bourbon was about as sweet a horse as they came. They made their way up Buck Mountain, which was more of a hill than a mountain, but as they approached the peak, the trails became quite narrow as she had to duck underneath hanging branches. Loose rocks occasionally rolled down the trail after being kicked up by the horses’ hooves. Amber had to adjust herself, leaning forward slightly as the trail steepened.
Bourbon balked a little, stopping a few times, shaking his head as if he were complaining. Sparky would nudge him with his nose, creating a slight neighing noise that sounded more like a grunt of frustration.
“Come on,” she said, kicking his belly gently. “We’re almost there.” While she’d never been to the top, she could see the log cabin nestled in the trees at the top of the mountain. Shamus told her that the Brotherhood Protectors used it for training purposes and the occasional safe house.
She glanced over her shoulder.
Shamus had a set of binoculars to his face. He’d been worried that the bad guys, whoever they were, might know right where they were headed.
“See anything?” she asked.
“Nothing out of the ordinary, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
White, puffy clouds floated across t
he indigo sky. Large birds squawked and flew overhead. In the distance, she saw the high school she’d attended. For the most part, she had fond memories of her years there, minus the drama her father created. Of course, Shamus always made things better.
As they rounded a corner, a cabin appeared before the ridge of the mountain. Stopping just short of a small porch, she slid off Bourbon, patting his nose. “You’re a good horse,” she whispered.
“I thought you might like him,” Shamus said, just as Sparky nudged her butt. “Hey.” He yanked at the reins.
She turned, wagging her finger. “You, on the other hand, are a bit of a nuisance.”
The horse made a snorting sound, turning his head.
“You hurt his feelings.”
“He hurt my ass.” She rubbed her back side.
Shamus circled his arm around her waist, tugging her to his chest.
Sparky snarled, moving his hind legs to the side as he tried to wedge himself between Shamus and Amber.
“I think your horse is jealous.” She rested her hands on Shamus’s shoulders, leaning forward.
Shamus pushed the horse out of the way, gently smacking his ass. “He should be. I like you better,” he said, before taking her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. He tasted like the warm air rolling off the mountains in the spring.
“Mmmmm,” he said softly against her ear. “I would love to finish what we started this morning, but we’ve got some work to do first.”
“I still feel like I should be on the ground, talking to people.” Had someone not sent a tracking device to Shamus’s home, she might have balked about going completely dark, but Hank was the best of the best, and he only hired the most elite.
“This isn’t about you anymore. Whoever we’re dealing with is after me. You’re a means to an end.”
“More collateral damage.” She followed him up the steps. The front of the log cabin faced the east and at first, it appeared as though it butted up against the mountainside, making it smaller than the place they’d just left.
That was until she stepped inside and looked across the room to a picture window that showed the west side and the open range below.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Shamus tossed a backpack on the island in the kitchen. There were two doors off the right of the main room, which was decorated in dark greens and browns with a bear skin rug in the center and antlers lining the walls. It had a masculine feel to it, as if a woman never set foot in the place before. However, it also wrapped her in cozy warmth like one of those Snuggies advertised on television.
“Shockingly cool,” she mused, letting her fingers glide across the counter. “You said you had equipment stashed up here?”
“There’s a comms room.” He pointed to the second door. “My first assignment had been a hacker that worked for the government while we worked together to find an underground team of whackos that liked messing with banks for fun. It wasn’t much of a protection detail, since there were no known threats, and the group wasn’t known for violence. I learned a lot from that guy and started stockpiling new shit up here, knowing someday it would come into good use again.”
“How long have you been working for the Brotherhood Protectors?” She eased her way toward the picture window and stared out into the vastness of numerous ranches. Cattle, horses, goats, and other animals gnawed at grass in the respective fenced-in areas. The highway specked the tree line just past her old house.
“Actively, one month. I had to be able to pass his physical and that took some effort on my part.”
The sound of a door opening caught her attention. Shamus stood in the entryway of the comms room. “Once I get this set up, I’m going to have you log into one of your accounts.”
“Isn’t that dangerous?”
“You’ll have a limited time, because if these guys are smart, which I assume they are, they’ll be able to follow my trail of IPS addresses, but it will be a little harder to pinpoint our exact location with the way this place is built.” He flicked a switch and not only did lights brighten the room, but half the equipment hummed to life.
“What do you honestly think this is all about?” she asked, taking a seat in front of a computer.
“I’ve been working on two theories.” He positioned himself in front of some metal contraption that looked like a combination of a camouflaged suitcase and an old-fashioned two-way radio until he opened it up, and some sort of special computer appeared inside the case.
“Are you going to share?” she asked. They hadn’t talked much about what his parents had told him, nor about the brief conversation he’d had with Hank just as they saddled up the horses. Of course, her mind had been going a mile a minute all day.
“If I believed in coincidences, which I don’t, then my first thought would be that whoever was planning on selling missile defense material, wanted you to out them on purpose.”
She raised her finger, waggling it in the air. “I’ve given that a lot of thought as well, and it doesn’t fly, mostly because I wasn’t given any names, other than Bud, who gave us mostly information about the system, not who they thought might be selling it.” Theory upon conspiracy theory blew through her mind like a video on triple fast-forward. “Everything we read only gave us a paper trail of who worked on the project.”
“Yes, but he gave you that note, which said to run or be killed.”
“We don’t know that was written by him.”
Shamus twisted a few knobs on the machine in front of him. “Then why give you the accordion? I think maybe he was gathering information for someone and probably being threatened.” Shamus put on a headset that covered only one ear and had a microphone over his mouth.
Amber’s leg rattled up and down.
“If both he and Wesson were being threatened, maybe they didn’t do what was asked and that’s why they killed them.”
“It’s possible,” he said, tapping on a few keys and turning different dials. “But I’m also thinking they must have installed a tracking device or something, otherwise, how else would they know where to find you later?”
She swallowed, coughing on her breath. “I brought the accordion file with me here.”
He shook his head. “I’m thinking more your car, but when we searched it, we found nothing, but I’d bet they removed it since you took off in a chopper.”
“So, why go into the office at the motel if they knew I was there?” she asked, her heart pounding a little faster.
“To scare you? Force you to call Hank, which would bring you to my front door.”
“Yeah, but Hank could have called anyone of the Brotherhood.”
“Funny you should mention that.” He held up his finger and plugged a cord into his machine. “Rooster, this is Tail, you copy?”
“Rooster Tail?” she whispered, shaking her head. She could only imagine who he might be talking to.
“I need a little help routing some IP addresses,” Shamus said, holding the mic in front of his face. “I want the trail to start in Virginia then go up and down the east coast, ending in Maine.”
A long silence stretched out, her thoughts scattered in a million directions, but nothing gelled. Instead the pieces danced around in her mind, tormenting her. She twisted her hair between her fingers. She’d been in war torn countries, listening to the rapid sounds of AR-150 rifles in the background. She’d been evacuated from cities hours before bombs exploded. In all those situations, she’d been terrified.
This felt different.
It felt personal.
“Thanks.” Shamus unplugged the cord.
“I have so many questions about that conversation,” she said, trying to focus on what amused her, not scared her.
He laughed. “Rooster is the guy I was just telling you about, and that’s his military code name.”
“And yours is Tail? Who gave you that?”
“I did, and it’s a long story I’d rather not get into, so what are your other questions?”
Nice way to
skirt the reason behind the nickname. “Why Maine?”
“There is another group similar to ours called Force Management; we’ve done work with them before. It will hopefully divert the search in that direction.”
That made sense. “Okay, back to why it was funny I mentioned Hank could have called someone else in the Brotherhood.”
Shamus opened another laptop and fired it up. “He’d gotten a call from someone asking for an intelligence specialist for a special project. They were supposed to call that night to speak with me, but your call came in. When the other person never called back, Hank checked the number.” He’d been all business since they stepped inside the cabin, hyper-focused on what he intended on doing. But he also had a twang of excitement with the way he spoke and how his body moved.
“Let me guess, it was an out of service number.”
“And that right there is why I love you…loved you.” He lowered his gaze, pecking away at the keyboard.
She knew he had meant the past tense. What they shared a long time ago had been love, and she cherished the memory, something they both had got caught up in. She figured if they had run into each other randomly at a bar, they’d end up tangled in a set of sheets once or twice, remembering their first love.
But that didn’t mean it was still love.
“If my father wasn’t dead, I’d think he was behind this. He never liked you much,” Amber said, letting out a long breath. “Then again, he honestly wasn’t smart enough.”
“Sober, he might have been, but let’s not get sidetracked.” He peered over his laptop. “Fire up the computer in front of you, open the web browser you normally use, and log into the email account you use most, or Facebook, if you use it often.”
“My Gmail account,” she said, clicking on the browser, wasting no time brining up Gmail. She typed in her email, password, and tapped log in. “Crap, says I have the wrong password.”
“Do you?”
She shook her head. “Not unless I mistyped.”
“Try again,” Shamus said with a more serious tone.
