by Radclyffe
“Yes, sir,” Jane said, getting to her feet. “I’ll be there, sir.”
Her father turned abruptly and left the gym. Hurrying toward the shower, Jane glanced at the big clock on the far wall. Less than twenty-four hours. Less than twenty-four hours, and she would have all the ammunition she’d ever need to free her sister. Sometimes wars were won without bloodshed, and if her plan worked, she might avoid it. But nothing was going to stop her from freeing her sister.
Chapter Twenty-nine
“Flying solo tonight, Loren?” Trish said as she settled onto the adjacent bar stool.
“More or less.” Loren finished the warm dregs in the bottom of her glass and held it out to Clyde, the prospect who’d been manning the bar at the Rooster since three when the regular staff had left. He dutifully jogged over, took her glass, and refilled it from the tap.
“Let me have a whiskey sour,” Trish said when Clyde returned, and he hurried off to comply. She leaned her elbow on the bar and regarded Loren solemnly. “Just for the night or permanently?”
“Not quite sure.”
“Too bad. I kind of liked her.”
“Yeah, me too,” Loren said, sticking to the truth. Always smart when undercover, but she couldn’t bring herself to say anything else. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t care and she couldn’t lie. Not about Sky. She was pissed off at her, but that didn’t change anything. All she really wanted was to erase the sick feeling in her gut that surged every time she thought about Sky in danger. She knew better too. If she couldn’t keep her head in the game, she was going to be a liability to Sky, and that was the very last thing she wanted.
“She’s too much woman for you, though,” Trish said casually and took the mixed drink from the prospect. She sipped it, a thoughtful expression on her face. She put the rock glass down on the bar and pushed it away. “That really sucks.”
Clyde’s face took on a sickly shade of gray. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I’ll make you another one.”
“Yeah, and this time try putting a little whiskey in it.”
“I will. I will. Just one minute.” The skinny kid with a half-assed goatee grabbed the glass and bolted away.
“You keep busting their balls,” Loren observed, “and Ramsey won’t have anyone to ride with him before too long.”
Trish laughed. “I’m a firm believer in busting balls. Helps you find out who the true men are.” Trish took Loren’s beer and swallowed a quarter of it. “Or the real women.”
“I’m not going to ask about the particulars.”
“No matter. You don’t have to. I’m always happy to speak my mind.”
Loren laughed. “Can’t say I’ve noticed.”
“See there? That’s why you get all the girls. Because you know how to flirt.”
Loren almost swallowed her tongue. The last thing she needed was Ramsey thinking she was flirting with his woman. “I…uh…”
“Relax, I know you weren’t. Well, see, you were but you weren’t meaning to, and that’s even better. Actually talking to a woman, playing with her, that’s exciting.”
Loren resisted looking over her shoulder to see if Ramsey was in earshot. Trish definitely had something on her mind. “So, ah, what’s your advice for an unworthy like me?”
“Now Lisa,” Trish said with a pleased smile, “she’s a woman with class. Smart and sassy, and sexy. In fact, I was a little surprised to see her in here at first.”
Loren’s stomach clenched. This was what she’d been afraid of. The men tended to discount women as being nothing more than entertainment, but the other women, they studied newcomers. Sky stood out, and Trish wasn’t the queen of the pride just because she was Ramsey’s old lady. She was street-smart, savvy, and tough. Loren needed to sell Sky’s cover, and fast. “Lisa’s in a league of her own, for sure, but she isn’t the conforming type. She might be smart, but could you see her in an office?”
“No, but I get her being an accountant.” Trish paused when the prospect handed her another whiskey sour. She tasted this one, grunted, and gave a little nod. “Better.”
His sigh of relief was audible. “Thanks. Okay, thanks.”
Trish waved him off with an absent flick of her hand, and he disappeared. “Lisa works with her head, and numbers mean you have to be quick and sharp. That fits. And, hey, working numbers for national? That’s a power position. Smart again.”
“Yeah, I see what you mean,” Loren said, a swell of pride replacing the tension tying her insides into knots. Sky seemed to have sold her own cover just by being herself. Smart and sassy and sexy. And so much more.
Trish tilted her glass in Loren’s direction, as if punctuating her words. “So she’s the kind of woman it’s good to know. Good to have on the side of the chapter, if you know what I mean.”
Loren nodded slowly. “Important to treat her right.”
“Exactly. And it wouldn’t do you any harm, either. She’s about a hundred steps up from the trash you usually bed.”
“I wouldn’t say they’re trash.”
“No, you wouldn’t. That’s another thing I like about you.” Trish took a healthy swallow of her drink and patted Loren’s thigh, her hand lingering until Loren wanted to jump up and run. “In fact, if I ever get tired of Ramsey, I think you’ll be my next choice.”
Loren stared from the hand on her leg to Trish’s wickedly gleaming eyes. “Jesus, Trish. Are you trying to get me a one-way ticket out of here?”
Trish smiled sweetly and slid her hand back onto the bar. “Of course, I wouldn’t bother you if you were already hooked up, you know?”
Loren nodded. “I think I’m getting the message.”
“I always knew you were smart. Think about it.” Trish slid off her stool and sauntered across the room to a table where three biker chicks had congregated with their drinks, leaving Loren to digest the not-so-subtle messages.
Trish liked Sky, but she also liked what Sky could potentially do for the Renegades, assuming of course she was actually the person Trish thought she was. And since she wasn’t, the whole situation only meant Sky needed to disappear sooner rather than later. She’d already attracted too much attention.
Loren contemplated her beer and decided she didn’t want any more. What she wanted she couldn’t have. She wanted to climb into bed with Sky and spend the rest of the night wrapped up in her, immersed in the heat of her body and the sweet taste of her passion. She didn’t want the mission driving a wedge between them, and she didn’t want to be haunted by the specter of Sky being discovered—and eliminated. The idea of Sky disappearing from her life hurt more than she’d imagined possible, but at least if Sky headed back to LA before things got more complicated, she’d be safe. And above all, Loren wanted her safe.
But wanting was not the same as having, especially not when Sky wanted something else entirely. But maybe it wasn’t too late. She’d made a mistake revealing her feelings—not that she regretted how she felt—but she’d pushed too hard. Maybe if she kept things between them strictly professional, she’d have a better chance of convincing Sky to go.
Loren left the bar and drove through the starless, frigid night to her shop. She parked her bike out back so she wouldn’t wake Sky by raising the doors to the garage. When she let herself in, she knew instantly Sky was gone. The room held a stillness that could only mean it was devoid of life. She flicked on a light and scanned the space. Sky’s few things were gone. She hadn’t brought much, but the small touches of her had made the room come to life with a warmth it’d never had. Now it was once again a sterile place bounded by stark concrete and wood. A lot like her.
Loren dropped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. All the things that mattered were still the same—the job she had to do, the need she had to pit herself against those who hoped to destroy the things she believed in. The only thing that had changed was her. Oh, she still believed, she still burned with the need to carry out her duty, but she bled now in places she never had before. Sky had touched he
r where no one else had ever dared to reach, and now she couldn’t seal the wounds. She needed to be touched as only Sky could, something else she hadn’t realized. She covered her eyes with her arm and wondered how she’d lived so long knowing so little about herself and what really mattered.
*
Cam called the apartment late morning, Blair’s time. Blair answered on the second ring. “Hi, baby.”
“Hi,” Blair said. “How’s the hotel?”
Cam laughed. “Like every other hotel. Room service is pretty good, though.”
“Well, that’s important.”
“How are things?”
Blair gave the barest hint of a sigh. “I was right, Lucinda was being merciful the last couple of days, seeing as how it was my birthday and the holidays. But she is back on Lucinda time now. I got a text at five a.m. instructing me to appear later to review the itinerary, the various venues where she’ll need me to appear with my father, and backup plans for me to take his place if he gets diverted for any reason.”
“Business as usual.”
“Exactly. How’s yours going?”
“Fairly smooth so far. I’ll know more later today.” Cam didn’t discuss operations in progress. Blair wouldn’t expect her to, and she’d learned that what mattered most was simply connecting. The sound of Blair’s voice, the simple act of sharing a few moments of her day and hearing about Blair’s settled her. Knowing Blair was safe and happy was all she needed to ground her.
“Okay.” Blair was silent for a moment. “I hope that goes well. You’ll let me know, as soon as you can?”
“Absolutely. Try to get some rest in between Lucinda briefings. You’ll be busy soon enough.”
“Same to you. And hurry home.”
“I will. I love you.”
“I love you. Talk to you soon.”
Cam disconnected and packed the few things she’d removed the night before. She never fully unpacked, never knowing when she might need to check out in a hurry. Depending on how the day’s meeting went, she might be leaving as early as the next morning. However, if she got anything in the way of reasonable leads from the FBI agent, she planned to follow them up. The rendezvous location was a two-hour drive from her hotel, and she wanted to arrive with plenty of time for reconnaissance. She didn’t know any of the agents involved, and she couldn’t be sure how good their security or intel was.
She owed it to everyone, especially Blair, to be cautious.
*
Sky slept fitfully, waking almost every hour to check the clock. By the time she decided to get out of bed, she was running mostly on adrenaline. She needed to settle, keep her mind clear for the meet later. Unfortunately, the one thing she needed in order to do that, she didn’t have. She needed Loren. She couldn’t stop wondering where Loren had ended up after the Rooster. In one of the club rooms in the back of the bar, with some young hopeful to keep her warm? Or back at the garage, alone in the silence? Or maybe she’d returned, found Sky gone, and decided that was all for the good. Maybe she’d slept perfectly.
That thought was so aggravating Sky threw the covers aside and stomped into the bathroom. The lukewarm shower helped clear her head, and she dressed in jeans, a button-down cotton shirt, a loose black sweater, and biker boots. She gathered her wallet and keys and decided to head to a diner for breakfast. She had plenty of time before she needed to set out for the tavern. She planned on arriving early enough to watch the comings and goings and get a sense of who, if anyone, frequented the place. According to Dan’s intel, the place was usually deserted, so far off the beaten path it rarely got any customers except in the summer season. Locals had no reason to drop in, as it was on a road that led from nowhere to somewhere even less populated. On the whole, a perfect place for an out-of-the-way assignation, and for all anyone would know, she was meeting a lover somewhere they wouldn’t be detected. All the same, she wanted a sense of the entrance and exit roads from the place, what foot traffic if any there might be, and plan her own strategy in case things went wrong. The only way to avoid problems was to see to the details herself.
*
Jane stretched out on her stomach on the rocky ledge a hundred yards above the highway and two hundred yards from the turnoff to the Timberwolf Bar and Grill and peered through the high-powered binoculars at the building where the two federal agents were scheduled to meet. Her assault rifle lay by her side. Her thermal-lined, Kevlar-impregnated camo jacket and pants kept her warm. Three hours to go.
She’d arrived before sunrise and had nothing to eat but an MRE at dawn. The crackers, cheese, and candy bar were enough to keep her hands steady and her mind clear. She wasn’t hungry, wasn’t aware of the cold or the wind. A little discomfort was nothing compared to what Jenn was enduring, hour after hour and day after day. Jane’s whole world had become the ramshackle one-story, split-log building framed by an L-shaped gravel parking lot. A thin trickle of sooty gray smoke streamed from the stone chimney, and the odor of burning pine carried to her when the wind shifted in her direction. Someone was inside although the parking lot was empty except for a run-down, rusted-out Ford pickup truck that presumably belonged to the owner. There’d been no traffic of any kind in or out of the restaurant in the hours she’d been there. A perfect place to carry out their plan.
“Com check,” she whispered into her radio.
“Bravo one, check.”
“Charlie one, check.”
Jane nodded, satisfied. Even knowing where the others were stationed in the dense forest, she couldn’t detect them. “Alpha one, check. Maintain radio silence. Out.”
She settled down to wait. All that remained was for the prey to walk into the trap.
Chapter Thirty
Cam drove past the Timberwolf Bar and Grill without slowing. The parking lot was empty, except for a ten-year-old pickup truck parked on the side of the building. Had she not known the place was actually in business, she would have assumed it had been abandoned long ago—the log timbers were gray with age and splintered in places, the roof had bare patches where the shingles had blown off, and the parking lot was little more than a muddy gravel turnaround. She drove on for another two miles, scanning both sides of the road for access trails or turnoffs where vehicles might be concealed, and saw nothing. Five miles down the road, a cluster of square single-story houses, a garage with a row of muddy pickups in front, and a small convenience store marked the village of Stromberg. A hand-lettered sign in front of the store advertised gas, pizza, coffee, and worms. She kept driving for another ten miles and saw nothing on either side of the road except forest. Eventually, she U-turned in a narrow fire road and headed back. A few cars passed her on the way. No one seemed to take notice.
She continued past the tavern, which still showed no signs of life, and on to the closest town, about twenty miles south. She went through the drive-thru at the McDonald’s and sat in the parking lot to drink her coffee and wait. Thirty minutes before the meet time, she tossed her coffee cup into a trash can and completed the entire circuit again, eventually pulling into the tavern’s lot. After parking the Pathfinder facing out toward the road in front of the low structure, she stepped out and looked around. She hadn’t used the rear lot as she had no need to conceal her presence and every reason to want to be able to leave quickly if something went wrong. The two-lane road was empty, the forest quiet. She walked inside.
The musty bar was as empty and silent as the surrounding mountains. A grizzled, thin man in a red-and-black plaid flannel shirt and baggy khaki pants perched on a tall stool at the end of the bar with a newspaper spread out in front of him. He looked up and regarded her curiously, as if the presence of a potential customer was a surprise.
“Help you?” he said.
“Any chance of getting a coffee?”
He scratched his beard and nodded. “Don’t see why not. You want something to eat?”
“I think I’m okay for now.”
“Lost?”
“Not that I know of.”<
br />
He nodded, slid off his stool, and disappeared through a door with a portal window into what Cam presumed was the kitchen. She unbuttoned her jacket to give herself access to her weapon in case he returned with more than her coffee. A few minutes later he emerged from the back with a white porcelain mug and a small carton of cream. He set them down on a round wooden table near the door.
“Need sugar?”
“I’m good, thanks,” she said and handed him a five-dollar bill.
He took it and walked behind the bar to make change while she poured cream into her coffee. Real cream. The last thing she’d expected. “Keep the change.”
He looked at her over his shoulder, the curious expression back. “Thanks.”
When he went back to his newspaper, Cam moved her coffee to another table near a window from which she could see both the door from the kitchen, which presumably opened into the rear parking lot, and the front door. Even though the window glass was streaked and gritty, she had a good view of the small lot in front of the building as well as the approach road in both directions. Five minutes later a dark blue sedan pulled in next to her rented SUV. A woman emerged matching the photo Cam had pulled from the FBI files when she’d gotten the name of the agent she would be meeting. Skylar Dunbar looked younger in person than her jacket photo, but she acted like an experienced field agent. Dunbar had backed her car in as well and, upon emerging from the vehicle, scanned the surroundings thoroughly before moving out from the cover afforded by the car.
The owner glanced up from his paper again as Dunbar walked toward Cam’s table and called, “Get you something?”
Dunbar nodded toward Cam. “What she’s having would be good.”
“Be a minute.” He slid off his stool and disappeared into the back.
Dunbar sat down across from Cam. “This place is a little off the beaten path.”
