Blind Rage: Team Red, Book 4

by T. Hammond

  Bastian chuckled, squeezing my hand again. “That may change soon, Babe. Don’t forget we offered him a position with Team Red.”

  “Not if I get him first,” Russ objected.

  “When did that happen?” David asked, concurrent with Russ’ rebuttal.

  “Gil earns his twenty-year pin in a couple months. Teresa and I discussed adding him to our team, and asked him a week or so ago.”

  “I’m pretty sure we’ll lure him to the dark side,” I laughed. “He is dying to work with Red on tracking and agility courses.”

  “I wasn’t kidding, I’ve made him an offer too. The man has skills,” Russ stated.

  “Whoever gets him, let’s simply make a pact to share,” I compromised.

  There was some good-natured grumbling, before Russ conceded. Gwyn’s “There, there, sweetheart, you can’t win them all,” may have factored into him dropping the subject.

  “Before we continue, I wanted to make an apology. I underestimated you, Teresa,” Russ admitted, from his customary pacing position at the other head of the table. “Sure, I saw the pictures of Lt. Carpenter after you pounded his face into the countertop. And, yeah, Bas informed me you were no fragile flower. He insisted that you were a formidable woman.” There was an uncharacteristic shuffling of his feet, as Russ gathered his thoughts. “I completely disregarded what he said, assuming he was viewing you through the lens of a love-crazed fool. Well, maybe not a fool, but I was arrogantly sure that he exaggerated your competence. I made the same mistake your kidnappers made, Teresa. They, and I, equated blind with helpless; we assumed your lack of sight meant you were handicapped. I feel like an idiot for overlooking your obvious capability.”

  More shuffling before Russ got to the point, “Not only do you have extraordinary skills, which you’ve exhibited in your work with Team Red, but as a strategist you display remarkable aptitude for thinking outside the military box. We are Navy-trained, Teresa, and often approach challenges with an inflexible mindset, choosing instead a tried-and-true tactic. When all you have is a hammer, all your problems look like nails. You, Ms. March, are a Swiss Army knife; you look at problems with a totally different set of tools at your disposal. I would like to offer you a position with the Wild Horse think tank, affectionately referred to as the ‘Trough.’ You’d be paid a monthly retainer fee, and continue to work out of Spokane. If we need your perspective on other operations, we can set up a secure video conference so you can virtually attend San Diego meetings.”

  “I’m flattered, Russ. Thank you. But, I don’t know why you’d think there was anything I could add to your mission plans. In the time you’ve known me, I’ve exhibited extreme incompetence, getting myself snagged off my own property, by losers who could have given the Three Stooges some excellent slapstick material.”

  “Snagged, while on my watch,” Russ countered. “Teresa, I’ve observed how you work with Red, asking insightful questions to help get the answers you need. Casually, when the guys have complained about a problem we’re having, you come up with the most ingeniously simple solutions to issues we’ve wracked our brains over. Your talent lays in breaking challenges down to their base component, whereas we seem to overlook the obvious as we try to fashion issues into recognizable nails for our Naval-fashioned hammers.” There were a few wicked chuckles as all the dirty minds in the room went off on a tangent.

  “Well, I’d be happy to help if you think I have something to contribute,” I offered, “but I really don’t think you need to pay me a fee simply for asking my opinion about stuff.”

  “Oh, no you don’t, Babe,” Bas interjected. “Russ is offering you a job with the Trough, comprised of a group of people whose value is based on their unique perspective and opinions. Gwyn, David, and I are in the group, along with a dozen others. Each of us are paid the exact same retainer to be available when needed. The collaboration is important, and significant; one insightful suggestion or comment, could save millions of dollars, or an operative’s life. If you accept Russ’ offer, the fee is part of the package.”

  “Just as importantly, you’d make a commitment to be available when needed.” Gwyn added, “We may only have a few hours’ notice for an emergency meeting, and each person is expected to make a best effort to attend. Exceptions are made, of course. For example, with Bas and David, if they are on the road for a military software upgrade and can’t get to a secure phone line, they are exempted. Often, members who miss the discussion will call in if they can, to offer their input post-meeting.”

  “If you really think I can make a contribution, I’d love to join your think tank. Thank you for making the offer, Russ.” My mind was buzzing with the possibility of a new, creative outlet. I hoped Russ wouldn’t regret the offer. If he was going to pay me for my opinions, I wanted to bring value for the money.

  “And, once again, you see proof Teresa is not money-motivated. Aren’t you interested in the amount of retainer fee?” Bas teased, guessing my answer.

  “No, absolutely not. Between my savings, and monthly income from the exorbitant rent PreClan pays to lease the Cave, I’m not concerned in the slightest. Henry, if you can make sure Russ gets the necessary bank information, I’d appreciate it.” So nice having him take over the household accounts. “Russ, simply make an automatic deposit and I’ll shake my head about the money some other time. For now, I’m far more concerned with how I might be able to help.”

  “Glad to have you on board,” Gwyn congratulated. “You’re, un-officially, a Wild Horse.”

  “What about security clearances?” David asked. “We should probably start the process to ease her into some of the top secret operations which may come under consideration in the meetings. No reflection on you, Teresa, but we have signed nondisclosure agreements on some portions of our projects containing restricted information. For example, because I’m a member of the Trough, I know Russ has a few contracts which require a specific top secret clearance level for each think tank attendee.”

  I was vacillating between being annoyed David didn’t feel I was trustworthy, and understanding the military had rules—and let’s face it, many of Russ’ contracts probably overlapped with military operations. But, before I could get upset over my assumption that David wanted to exclude me from the discussions, he totally diffused my anger, as he continued, “If you get the higher-level clearances for Teresa, Russ, you can include her in some of our more intricate meetings where her perspective may really benefit the group discussions. Or, am I the only one who’s noticed we’ve spent two conference calls regarding the Fargo project, without any new ideas crossing the table?”

  Talk about a complete turnaround. Is this the same David who insisted on sheltering me by excluding me from Team Red mission discussions? Was he finally letting go enough he didn’t feel the need to protect me? Maybe those protective urges had transferred to Marcia, who truly seemed to need him? Will the real David Preston, please stand up? While I battled with internal dialog, the conversation continued around me.

  “Colonel Spencer already hired Wild Horse Security, last November, to do an initial enquiry on Teresa before your BAWG assignment. He was dazzled by the talking dog, but he’s a creature of habit, and had me do a detailed investigation. I believe his intent was clearing her for some secret, and top secret, missions in the future. She currently has confidential clearance. I gathered enough information and interviews to probably gain her secret clearance. I’d like to try for top secret, Teresa. It’s more intrusive for you, but you have a very clean background, so I feel it will go through effortlessly. As David mentioned, it opens up more possibilities for you as a Wild Horse consultant. I’m sure the colonel would be ecstatic also.”

  “There’s a bazillion pages for the clearance forms, but we can get started on the paperwork, tomorrow,” Gwyn offered. “We need more estrogen in the meetings.”

  My head was spinning. Security paperwork, a new consulting job, and Wild Horse’s involvement in screening Team Red jobs. Things were movin
g quickly.

  The meeting continued, focused toward improving Team Red security. By the time we finished, I had a fresh appreciation for the talented men who comprised my detail.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Teresa, can we talk?”

  A hand grasped my shoulder to prevent me from walking away from the conference table, startling me so badly, I made a whimpering girly-noise squeak. How embarrassing. I automatically crowded closer to Bastian, who tucked me against his chest, as he swung us around to confront the asshole who frightened me.

  “Could you possibly be more insensitive, David?” Bas snarled sarcastically. “Fuck, man, she was plucked off the property a few days ago, and you sneak up behind her, grabbing her without warning? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “Damn, Bas. I’m sorry,” David stammered.

  “Apologizing to the wrong person, dude.” Bas’ embrace loosened enough to allow me to turn toward David. Even holding me secure along his side, Bastian retained an awareness of my aches and bruises, his touch was light and soothing. “You okay, Babe? You’re a little pale.”

  “I’m not hurt, only startled. I’m a bundle of nerves lately.”

  “God, Teresa, I’m so sorry,” David apologized, voice heavy with remorse. “Bas is right, I should have been more careful. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “I’m fine, David. And yes, we need to talk. How about after lunch?” I tilted my face toward Bastian, “Will the upstairs office be free this afternoon?”

  “Yeah, I’ll work down here in the Cave. Red brought four military-grade drones to me earlier, and I want to look them over for viability so I’ll need my tools.”

  “Perfect, thank you. Can you also let Jim know? I think he’s only using the room for sleep, but I don’t want to intrude on his space.”

  Realizing David was unaware of the family-level room rearrangement, I clarified, “David, we can have privacy in Bastian’s old bedroom. It’s been converted to an office for you and him to get away from the Cave chaos. Doc Jim is sleeping on the pullout bed while he’s here, and I suspect he has a few consultations with Mustangs too. The original office is now Henry’s room.”

  “I was hoping we could have a casual discussion in the window seat,” he referred to the glassed-in alcove in my bedroom; one of our favorite places to talk and relax. I was surprised by his hand wrapping my forearm in entreaty. Besides being presumptuous, he grabbed the arm I’d used to block one of the blows Adamson threw, so I flinched at his unintentionally painful grip.

  “What the hell?” David wondered aloud, as his hand immediately pulled back from my response.

  I expected Bas’ anger, but he simply sighed and said, “You haven’t looked at the video we recorded, have you?”

  “No. I got Marcia and Wes to bed last night, and crashed soon afterward,” David admitted.

  “Got film of the highlights,” Frost interjected from my right, probably taking his normal place when he noticed David’s carelessness. “We’ll make popcorn. Should see it before lunch,” Frost insisted. “Now’s good for me.” Frost brushed past me, using his body to force an unresisting David toward the computer monitors. “Brain, queue up ‘Kickass Girl.’ The abridged version.”

  “You got it, Frost.” Brain answered, from his favorite spot along the north wall of monitors.

  With David outmaneuvered for now, I felt my tense muscles unclench. Bas’ hand dropped to my lower spine to guide me to the first stair.

  “I’ve got the best view in the house,” the lewd Mr. Declan growled from a few feet behind, and below, me. If I could see, I’m pretty sure a glance over my shoulder would have shown Bas eye-level with my ass.

  “Letch,” I accused, with a grin.

  “Guilty,” came the unrepentant rejoinder.

  I continued up the stairs to my bedroom, Bas close on my heels. “I thought you had to work. Why are you following me, stalker boy?”

  “Needed to hold you.” He pulled me gently to his chest. “Hug you.” He folded his arms around my body. “Kiss you.” Lips pressed to mine in an explosion of peppermint, coffee, and a hint of maple bar. “And, remind you that you’re loved.” His tongue speared boldly into my mouth, blanketing me with his passion and heat.

  My breathing was heavy, pulse beating like a wild beast against cage bars. This man made me breathless with anticipation—which, upon reflection, was no doubt his master plan to finally get me in bed. My body was in complete agreement, sundry aches and pains entirely forgotten.

  “What will you be doing before lunch?” Bas asked, as we held each other, waiting for our bodies to calm.

  “Jim and I are going to take a walk,” I whispered into the wall of his chest.

  Bas’ body stilled. “You sure, Babe?”

  “Yeah,” I answered, although, even to my own ears, I didn’t sound convincing. “Jim will be with me. Fritz and Dex will be watching.” My lips tilted up in a smug grin. “And, now that you know I’ll be outside, I’m sure every available Mustang, drone, and camera will be following our progress.”

  “You got that right, Babe. I’ll probably be more nervous than you until I meet you back at the kitchen.” Bastian’s hands slid up my arms, followed the curve of my neck, and slipped over my jaw to position my lips for his leisurely ravishment. “I love you, Teresa March. Be safe, I’ll see you in a few hours at lunch. Don’t be late, Gwyn and Ken made lasagna. I don’t expect it will last long once they put the first pans out.”

  I smirked, “I have loyal Team Red guards and every confidence they will save me a piece. Frost will, anyway. He’s always got my back.” My voice lowered, to share a confidence. “He’s my favorite, you know. Frost reminds me of you, for some reason. He’s quieter, and uses his damn words like he was only given a handful at birth and he wants to make sure they last for his lifetime, but there’s a confident intensity which convinces me I’m safe if he’s watching.”

  “Frost and Dex are your most competent guards. If Frost had been watching the monitors the morning you were taken, I have no doubt he’d have instinctively known, almost immediately, something was wrong. The man has crazy intuition. As it was, he heard Ralph mention you seemed to be investigating something in the gully, and Frost had everyone ready to hit the snow before your first boot came flying over the ridge. Would have caught up, if we’d had snow mobiles.”

  I tumbled his words in my brain for a moment. It was my understanding all the Mustangs were more than qualified, and my detail was comprised of men who specialized in personal protection. “Are you equating competent with dangerous?”

  Bas’ chest rocked with laughter. “Yeah, I guess I am. Eddie is another one who’s dangerous. That’s why one of each is on a separate team for your detail. Each of the scary guards,” he was still laughing at the unflattering description, “is paired with an extrovert whose strengths and social skills compliment them.” I pulled a sweater out of my dresser—the secret to surviving northwest winters was layering. Bas helped guide my sore arms into each sleeve, while continuing his narrative about my guards. “Jazz, Fritz, and Henry, are more likely to stop someone from getting too close to you. At the police station altercation, you’ll remember Frost stayed with you, and Jazz was in the middle of the action. These guys are your first line of defense; they will talk the threat down, deflect their attention, or physically engage the threat. If they aren’t successful then the second man, in this case, Frost, would have taken more… decisive action.”

  “And by ‘decisive’ you mean what, exactly?”

  Bas reflected on what he’d say, before finally settling on, “Each of the men in your detail would willingly put their life on the line for you, Babe. But whereas each would die for you, Frost, Eddie, and Dex, would kill for you. No regrets. No hesitation. They aren’t killers, per se, well… we have serious doubts about Dexter sometimes, but they are seasoned combat vets who have proven themselves to be ruthlessly efficient when guarding a client. If an attacker got by Jazz, Frost would be forced to d
isable them.”

  I considered his words for a moment, deciding if Bas or David’s life were on the line, these men would be the ones I’d pick to protect them. What did it say about me and my instincts? My two favorite guards were also the most lethal. “You’re like Frost too, aren’t you? That’s why no one offered to help you when we had intruders on the property a few weeks ago. You were ‘ruthlessly efficient’ when you took out five men in the woods.”

  “I may have gained a reputation,” he replied modestly.

  With an unladylike snort, I said sardonically, “Yes, I’m sure you have.”

  I’d placed my phone on the charger pad overnight, so I made sure to snatch it up and slip it into my back pocket. When Russ realized my phone had been left on my charger the morning I was taken, he’d had one of the Mustangs place a wireless charging pad on my nightstand. No more cords and fumbling with port connections, my cell phone charged automatically when I laid it on the pad each night. From habit, I reached out, tapping the audible clock, “Monday, January 14, 9:36a.m.”