The Truth

by Heather Slade

  It was another example of the woman’s humanity. It must’ve made her happy to be able to talk about her family, her grandparents in particular, who had built the house as well as the other buildings on top of the hill. It was Mercer’s understanding that, shortly after they died, Lena’s mother was diagnosed with Parkinson’s, the same disease that took Quinn’s great-grandfather’s life. She must’ve been terrified.

  “I feel sorry for her. The way her mother died…” Mercer said out loud, not necessarily meaning to.

  “I felt sorry for Leech,” added Paps. “Something died inside of him when his wife got sick. All the plans he’d had for his retirement turned to dust. He and Elisabetta planned to bring the vineyards back and turn the property into a thriving wine business. None of that came to fruition. Instead, he simply watched his wife deteriorate.”

  From what Mercer knew, the disease was not typically hereditary. The research he’d read indicated that only ten percent of Parkinson’s cases were genetic. Still, if both his grandfather and mother had died from it, he’d be vigilant about watching for symptoms. He wondered if Lena did. And what about Quinn?

  “After Elisa died, Leech retreated. Doc was worried, but Leech acted before any of us could intervene.”

  “You couldn’t have predicted he’d do what he did.”

  “No? I’m not so certain.”

  If he were in Paps’ shoes, he’d feel the same guilt, logical or not.

  “It’s time you knew more of the story, but first, I’m hungry. Let’s go to Sadie’s.”

  “Sure. I’ll just…uh, grab my wallet.” He was going to say he’d take a quick shower, but he sensed that Paps wanted to talk now, and he didn’t want to miss his chance. In particular, he wanted to know why Lena’s mother had left Doc half the estate, and how her daughter, Kade’s former wife, felt about that.

  Five minutes later, they were seated in the diner. Sadie had taken their order, and they were waiting for their food when Paps started talking again.

  “He trained all of us, you know. Me, Doc, Razor, Calder.”

  Mercer lost his appetite. With every word Paps spoke, the picture became more clear. Leech Hess had recruited Doc, Paps, Razor, and Calder, and the latter betrayed them all.

  “Doc and Boiler, that was Calder’s code name, back then anyway, they had a love/hate relationship from the start. Some days they were close, like Razor and me. Other days you could tell they wanted to kill each other. Barbie was always in the middle. Even in those early days, it was a tossup as to who she’d end up with. One day she’d favor Doc; the next day, it was Boiler.”

  “What happened?”

  “The Marines. Hell, I don’t need to tell you it’s all about competition. Boiler was used to being the best at whatever he did. When Doc came along, that changed. You could see it build between them like a tangible energy field. In the end, Boiler lost.”

  “What did he lose?”

  “Everything. Barbie. Delta Force. Leech wasn’t even sure if Boiler would be recruited into the NCS.”

  “Because he saw something.”

  “Yep. In the same way we see something isn’t quite right with Max. We hone those instincts in order to stay alive.”

  Mercer nodded. Didn’t he know it. “How’d they turn him?”

  “That’s probably the part Leech wished he could go back and change the most. He thought that Boiler would rally, work harder, try harder. I guess that’s what they call tough love these days. It didn’t work, and that was the beginning of the end.”

  Paps looked out the window, away from Mercer. “Boiler had always been good with languages, spoke three or four almost fluently, including Russian. I’ve wondered sometimes if they went after him, or if it was the other way around.”

  “He couldn’t have had much clearance.” They’d all been so young, younger than Mercer was when Doc recruited him.

  “No, he didn’t, but Leech did.”

  Paps told him that Calder had managed to hack into Leech’s system and decode thousands of classified documents, that he then handed off to the Russians. What resulted was the death of at least a dozen US operatives.

  “I have to tell you, I’d never guess he was that smart.”

  “He wasn’t.”

  “Then how’d he do it?”

  “He had help from a beautiful, brilliant, and insanely lethal agent.”

  “What happened to her?”

  “Doc killed her. If he’d had another ten seconds, he would’ve killed Calder too.”

  “Who stopped him?”

  “Leech.” Paps shook his head and looked out the front window again. “That’s enough for today,” he said when Sadie delivered their food.

  Mercer moved his food around his plate, piecing together what he could of the rest of the story.

  What he didn’t know was when the rape had occurred. It must’ve been after Doc killed the other agent; otherwise, Leech would have let him finish Calder off.

  “He’ll need a to-go box,” he heard Paps tell Sadie.

  Mercer looked over to see he’d cleaned his plate and paid the check already.

  Paps checked his phone. “It’s later than I thought, and we’re expecting company.”

  “Who?”

  “Laird Butler.”

  Mercer stopped in his tracks.

  “Come on, Eighty-eight. I’ll fill you in on the way back.”

  “Gunner, it’s good to see you,” said Laird when Paps invited him in.

  When the two men smiled and shook hands, it was evident to Mercer that they’d known each other a long time.

  “Burns, this is Eighty-eight.”

  Mercer stepped forward to shake his hand. “Hello, sir.”

  “I’ve heard a lot about you, son. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Laird pointed at Paps. “He’s quite the gatekeeper.”

  “Sit down, Eighty-eight,” Paps said. “You look like you’re gonna faint.”

  Both Laird and Paps laughed, and Mercer did as he’d suggested and took a seat.

  “Over breakfast, I briefed him on pretty much everything Doc left out in terms of what happened with Boiler twenty years ago.”

  Not everything, thought Mercer, there were still a lot of holes.

  “Breakfast? At this hour?” exclaimed Laird. “What the hell kind of operation have you turned this into?”

  He pointed at Mercer. “It was this guy. I was up at dawn like always.”

  “Let’s take a walk,” Laird said to Paps. They left, and neither one suggested he join them.

  “How’d he get the code name Burns?” Mercer asked when Paps came back half an hour later and Laird wasn’t with him.

  “A couple things. You know the Scots, Robert Burns ranks higher than God himself. In addition to that, I’ve never known an agent who was better at taking out bridges than Burns Butler.”

  Mercer understood. In the intelligence community, burning bridges meant cutting links in every operational chain if a mission was compromised, so none of the parts could ever be put back together.

  “The apple didn’t fall as far from the tree as everyone thinks,” he commented.

  “Hell, no. Doc idolized his father. Wanted to be just like him,” said Paps.

  “Yet, none of Doc’s siblings know about Laird’s other career.”

  “That’s right. Remember I told you that Leech’s dream had been to bring the vineyards back to life, retire, and make wine?”

  Mercer nodded.

  “Where do you think he got the idea?” Paps shook his head and smiled. “Burns and Leech…well, that’s a story for another day. Anyway, when Burns quit the agency and committed himself full time to the ranch, Leech envied him and decided to do the same.”

  “But Laird was born to it.”

  “So was Elisabetta. Yet, she chose the life she led with Leech. There were no secrets between them, other than what he was restricted from telling her, and she understood that part.”

  “What about Sorcha?”


  “Have you heard the story about how the two of them met?” Paps asked.

  He shook his head. “No, sir.”

  Paps put his hand on Mercer’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’m done telling tales today. Don’t you have an asset to check up on?”

  “I can’t believe you held out this long, Eighty-eight,” Razor said when he answered Mercer’s call.

  “How is she?”

  “Skipper?”

  “No, the Queen of England.”

  Razor laughed. “Settle down, son. She’s fine. Antsy, but fine.”

  “How’d the interview go?”

  “As you’d expect. She was professional and polite.”

  “Glad to hear it. Listen, there are some things I need to read you in on.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Mercer hung up. Razor knew everything he knew, both about what had transpired in the last forty-eight hours, and what Paps had told him about Leech and the team’s early days.

  When he came back, Paps was outside, having a beer—with Lena. Something told him he shouldn’t interrupt. Instead he sent a text saying he had to go into San Luis Obispo.

  Yesterday he’d forgotten to pick up the frame he had the artist make for Quinn. Besides that, Mercer needed to get out on the road for a couple of hours, clear his head, and process everything he’d learned today, so tomorrow he could craft the next part of the mission.

  He was on his way back to the bike, frame in hand, when he saw someone familiar checking it out.

  “This yours?”

  Mercer nodded and looked over at the motorcycle parked next to it. “That yours?”

  “Sure is.” The man extended his hand. “I’m Naughton. Is this a Monster?”

  “Name’s Mercer. And yeah, a 1200.”

  “It’s a beauty.”

  “Thanks. Is that an R5?” Mercer walked closer to the vintage bike. “Fifty-two?”

  “Yep.”

  They talked for a few minutes about the new bike versus the old. Both the Ducati and the BMW were equally impressive.

  Mercer put his jacket on, tucked the frame inside, and zipped it up. “You up for a ride?” he asked.

  “Sure. Got one in mind?”

  “Nope. You?”

  “How much time you got?” Naughton asked.

  “Nowhere I need to be,” he answered.

  Paps had suggested he engage Doc’s younger brother, and it couldn’t have worked out better if he’d planned it.

  “It’ll bring us back here, but the views aren’t as good if we don’t come up from the south.”

  Mercer gave him a thumbs up, and followed when Naughton pulled away from the curb.

  “Wanna trade for the ride down?” Naughton asked when they reached the top of See Canyon Road and stopped to take in the views.

  “Sure,” said Mercer, mimicking Naughton’s earlier enthusiasm. “In a minute, if that’s okay.”

  “Take your time, no better views in the county.”

  Mercer set his helmet on the seat of his bike and walked across the road, to the boulder he saw jutting out from the hillside. Naughton was right about the view. Beyond Morro Rock, he could see as far north as the Piedras Blancas Lighthouse, at least an hour away.

  “How’s the ride down?” he asked when Naughton sat down on the big rock near him.

  “Not as hard. More fun.”

  “Sounds great.” Mercer looked back out at the vast Pacific Ocean and felt a pang of regret. If he weren’t Doc’s younger brother, Naughton would be someone he’d like to get to know better. As it was, establishing a friendship seemed wrong. It would be another relationship based on secrets, with Mercer knowing more about the person than he should—just like with Quinn.

  The ride back into town was fun, but like Naughton said, not as much of a challenge. He loved riding the BMW though, and rethought his plan to buy a Ducati to keep in the city. Instead, maybe he’d look for an old R5 like Naughton’s.

  “Got time for a beer?” he asked.

  Mercer checked the time even though he had nowhere to be. “Maybe one.”

  They went into the same restaurant where he and Paps had met the other day, and sat at the bar. When Mercer took his jacket off, his shirt pulled to the side, and Naughton noticed.

  “My brother had ink a lot like yours,” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  Naughton didn’t say anything else, which only made Mercer feel shittier. I’m sorry about your brother, he wanted to say. I knew him well, in fact, I considered him a brother myself.

  “You from around here?” Naughton asked a few minutes later.

  “No, the East Coast. Just here on business.”

  Naughton didn’t ask what kind of business, but Mercer hadn’t expected him to.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “Born and raised here,” he answered. “A few miles north, in Paso Robles.”

  “Wine country,” Mercer commented. “In the business?”

  He nodded. “I’m a vineyard manager for Butler Ranch.”

  “I know their wine well.”

  “Come by some time, and I’ll give you a tour of the place,” Naughton offered.

  “I’d like that.”

  A few minutes later, when Naughton stood to put his jacket on, Mercer did too. They’d had their beer, and it was time to part ways.

  “Good to meet you,” Naughton said as they walked out the door.

  Mercer turned and shook his hand. “You, too.” He waited for the other bike to pull away before he got on the Ducati. He started it up and sat for a minute, rubbing his hand over his chest and missing Quinn.

  Tuesday was as quiet as Monday had been, but both seemed like the proverbial calm before the storm. He was on edge, and so was Paps.

  “Slow down; I can’t understand you,” Mercer said when he answered a call from Lena.

  “He knows.”

  “Who knows what?”

  “Maddox knows I was married to Kade.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Lena explained that she’d been showing Maddox photos of the vineyards back when her grandparents were alive. “A photo of Kade and me must’ve been stuck to one of the others, and he saw it.”

  “He saw the photo; that doesn’t mean he knows you were married.”

  “I told him.”

  “It’s inconsequential at this point,” he said.

  “Shit,” she gasped.

  “What?”

  “Calder is here.”

  “Paps will take care of him.”

  “What if he followed Maddox out?”

  “He didn’t.”

  “I don’t trust him.”

  “You don’t trust me either.”

  “True,” she said right before she hung up.

  A few minutes later, Paps called to report that Calder was gone. “He showed up right after Maddox left, wanting to know what Lena had told him,” Paps said.

  “Where is he now?”

  “Moving the wine.”

  By dawn the storm hit landfall. At a little after five, the call came in from the Alcohol Tax Bureau.

  Calder had paid some of Naughton’s vineyard workers, Max included, to take the wine from the caves, back to Los Caballeros. At the same time, he called the ATB. The only thing they hadn’t anticipated was Calder fingering Naughton Butler as the snitch.

  By the time Mercer arrived at Los Cab in ATB gear, Gabe Avila was ready to kill, and Naughton Butler was in his crosshairs.

  Unable to keep Gabe from going after any of the Butler brothers without blowing their cover, the team was forced to watch the afternoon’s events play out, including Alex Avila landing in the hospital when she got between Maddox and her oldest brother’s rage.

  “Time to go, Barbie,” Paps said to her when they got back to the house in Harmony.

  Her reaction was palpable. It was like watching ten years come off her age.

  “When, specifically?” she asked.

  “Nightfall,” Paps answered.


  Shortly after the sky had turned dark, Mercer pulled up to the estate’s main gate and killed the bike’s engine. He rolled it inside and waited for Max to show. As he surveyed the property, a vehicle caught his eye, and it wasn’t the one he’d expected to be there.

  “Shit,” he spat, recognizing the license plate of the truck. What the hell was Naughton Butler doing here?

  He sent a text to Max. Change of plans, meet me at the south gate.

  “Why? I’m right here,” Max whispered behind him.

  Mercer pointed to Naughton’s truck. “That’s why.”

  “You want me to move it? I thought this was where we were supposed to meet?”

  “That’s the truck you took?”

  “Paps said to use the ranch truck.”

  “Jesus-fucking-Christ. Who the hell is that?” he growled as another vehicle pulled through the gates. Thankfully, he’d moved the bike out of sight, and he and Max-the-idiot were under the cover of the woods.

  “Maddox,” answered Paps, who came out of the woods on the other side of the dirt road after the truck had passed.

  “What is he doing here?” Mercer asked.

  “Barbie called him,” answered Paps, coming out of the woods. “I told her to.”

  “Why?”

  “To tie up the loose ends so he’ll back off. I suggested she tell Maddox that Calder was blackmailing her to keep his knowledge of the wine secret.”

  Mercer’s eyebrows scrunched.

  “Don’t worry, Eighty-eight. I had her tell him that Calder was using her marriage to Kade as incentive to get her to help him.”

  “Good thinking, Paps.” That would make sense to Maddox, and maybe he’d quit sniffing around.

  For now, though, they needed to get Naughton’s truck the hell out of there.

  “What’s that?” asked Paps, pointing at the very thing Mercer was worried about.

  “I got the wrong vehicle,” Max confessed.

  Mercer knew Paps well enough to know he wouldn’t freak out. “No one is going to die because of this mistake,” he was known to say, and Mercer tried to remember that when the little shit started piling up.

  Before Mercer could suggest Max leave now to exchange trucks, they saw headlights coming back down the dirt road. The three men moved back into the woods.