by J. C. Cliff
I narrow my eyes and curl my hands into fists. He’s pushing his luck with me. It’s more than evident I’m on edge this morning, but this is Hunter; he loves to goad me.
Hunter throws his palms up in front of me, motioning for me to stay calm. “I’m just sayin’ the majority of all those women who were there in that bar last night were there for one reason. I’m only trying to make light of the situation, Stryker. I don’t like seeing you this stressed. It’s very unlike you.”
I exhale the breath I was holding and relax my shoulders. “It’s all good, Hunter. Last night was a very unnerving episode in my life, and I’d love nothing more than to erase it from my memory.”
“You know I was incapacitated last night, man. I felt really bad.”
“I know, and it’s okay,” I assure him for the second time. “The entire experience just left me rattled in more ways than one.”
As Hunter lifts his coffee to his lips, he pauses to chuckle then grins over the mug’s rim. “Why are you so hung up on women having their own oasis of sorts?”
“You know,” Travis says from behind me, interjecting his thoughts, “I almost can’t say I blame them for wanting a place like the Local Edge.” He joins us at the conference table then shrugs. “I suppose they’re just as lonely as the men who go to strip clubs and get dirty dances. Either that, or they have an insatiable appetite for sex.”
Hunter studies me for a moment, not removing his eyes from mine as he sips on his coffee. We’ve worked together for so long he knows when there’s something deeper eating at me. He’s always been perceptive like that. “What’s really got you riled up, Stryker?” he asks, his voice full of concern.
“Fuck off.” I look away from Hunter, very done with the conversation. It’s obvious I’m upset, but not for the reasons they think. The guys think I’m pissed about what I had to do and the failed attempt of not making contact with my target.
I’m unsettled over the fact I ran into the one woman who really meant something to me at one point in my life. Then she made it absolutely clear what she thought of me last night. I still can’t help but think of all the confusing signals she was sending my way, confusing me at every turn.
“Well, then,” Quinn begins, “now that we’re all here, we can start this meeting.” He does a recap of the things we already know, and when he does so, my mind begins to wander, but not for long, because he’s too sharp. He knows when his men zone out. “Are you listening, Stryker?” I break away from my internal thoughts and look at him.
“What?” I ask, perplexed, not sure what I’ve missed.
Quinn leans forward, resting his elbows on the conference table, “I said you can relax, because you’re done with the Local Edge.”
“I am?”
“Yes, you’re off the hook from having to get intimately close with your target, especially since she never saw you.” I’m so fucking relieved on the inside, until Quinn adds, “But you’re not off the hook from getting close to the target’s best friend.”
I’m paying rapt attention now, soaking in his every word. I’m glad I can put the Local Edge behind me, including the fucked-upness that was Valerie. However, my relief is short-lived when Quinn points to the computer screen, drawing everyone’s attention to the picture on the screen. “…is her best friend, Valerie Lawrence.”
My heart slams to a stop. What the fuck? It’s Valerie… my Valerie. I blink my eyes several times in disbelief. My stomach roils and I look to the ceiling, my fingers running through my hair with newfound panic. I quit listening to Quinn, unable to hear any more. He grasps my shoulder, gently shaking me to get my attention. He looks highly ticked off that I keep zoning out on him.
“Stryker, just what the fuck is wrong with you today?” His brow is arched as if he’s expecting me to be able to answer such a simple question, one in which I don’t have the answer to.
“I’m good,” I croak out, lying my ass off. I turn my eyes back to the computer screen to refocus, and my pulse skyrockets all over again. All I can do is stare at the picture of Valerie and work to breathe through my constricting lungs. I have zero clue what she will mean to me in regards to our mission.
Quinn taps on a few more keys, an itinerary popping up on the big screen, replacing Valerie’s picture. I’m still fucking numb; I can’t seem to concentrate or digest what’s being said around me.
Travis’s voice fades out, and then back in again, as he explains, “Celia and Valerie are going on this mission trip to Panama. They’re scheduled to leave in four days. The fact they’re going out of the country raises all kinds of red flags, mission trip or not.”
“This Celia woman—she doesn’t come across as being the philanthropic type, does she?” Hunter adds. “One look at her, and I can tell you she isn’t one to get her hands dirty.” Beads of sweat begin to break out across my forehead as I try to catch up to the conversation.
“Which makes for another reason we need to follow them there,” Travis adds.
“Travis and I were up half the night trying to come up with a game plan as to how this mission trip needs to unfold,” Quinn begins. “Since the likelihood of Hunter being recognized is zero, this will be the perfect opportunity to send him to Panama ahead of everyone else. He will be acting as the on-site mission director/coordinator for the Global Missions Organization, GMO. They’re the company who sets up and organizes these types of medical mission trips. He will have every opportunity to schmooze Celia for the entire week they’ll be there, hopefully being able to gain some much-needed intel.” Quinn looks between me and Hunter, adding, “So while Hunter is targeting Celia, your job, Stryker, will be to focus on and get close to her best friend, Valerie. I want you and Hunter to be on this trip.”
CHAPTER 11
~ Stryker ~
I choke on my own spit at Quinn’s declaration. I quickly recover, and squeak out, “What do you mean, me and Hunter?” I’m not sure I caught that last part correctly.
“Do you have wax in your ears today, Stryker?” Quinn asks, highly annoyed. “I said, since Hunter will be getting close to Celia, it’s your job to work her best friend, Valerie.”
I think about this dilemma for a millisecond, and that’s all it takes for me to respond back with a resounding and unequivocal, “No. Hell no. I can’t do it.” I shake my head in protest, my heart pounding a mile a minute. “I can’t go undercover on this trip. I just can’t go.” I’m so upset I can’t even formulate a decent sentence as to why I won’t go.
“What the fuck? Since when?” Quinn leans forward in his chair, and it’s evident he’s run out of patience with me. “What the hell is wrong with you? It was bad enough you were freaking out yesterday. Granted, it was something you’ve never done before, but when it comes to you taking on an undercover job, you’ve never said no.” His eyes narrow on mine as he tries like hell to understand my unusual mood. “We need to be able to count on you, Stryker. This was handed to us by the FBI,” he says, as if it were God himself giving us the assignment. “This isn’t some grandma who can’t find her cat type of job. This is some deep and delicate shit we’re getting ready to delve into, and I need to know where your head is at.”
I shift my eyes, looking between Quinn and Travis both. “One of you guys will have do it,” I state, my voice full of resolve. No way am I bending on this one.
“Oh yeah, because that makes a shitload of sense,” Travis sniggers. “The one who’s a trained medic who has the perfect cover story to work a mission trip should stay behind to work the nuts and bolts of computer technology.”
I look to Quinn as he raises his left hand, wiggling his ring finger, making sure I see his wedding band. I point my finger at him, and growl, “You booked this undercover op knowing it would be mine or Hunter’s dick on the line. It would’ve been nice to have had a vote in that. It was bad enough I had to be in a fuck toy factory last night, but now? Now, we’re both involved with women?”
“Goddammit, Stryker,” Hunter furiously bursts o
ut, as he slaps the tabletop with a resounding whack, “stop being evasive and tell us what’s really going on with you! I’ve never seen you so wound up like this before, man.”
My hands tremble as I run my fingers through my hair. I begin tugging at my roots in frustration, and then I snap, “We used to be together, okay?” I shout out angrily. My leg starts bouncing with nervous tension. “Me and Valerie… we have history—bad history.” My gaze flits from one guy to the next, all of them looking the same, wide-eyed and stunned at the news.
I’m starting to really sweat now; beads of moisture are rolling down my back. “I can’t get close to her. I just can’t do it,” I tell them, my voice full of agony. “Not to mention, she hates my guts. She won’t give me the time of day, especially after last night.”
Everyone is stunned stupid, except for Travis, who lets out a low whistle of surprise, then says, “Well now, that’s a real sticky situation.”
I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose, and mumble, “It just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?”
“It might keep getting better, but that’s presuming she’s innocent in all this,” Travis says.
“Look, Stryke,” Quinn’s voice suddenly turns consoling, “we all get put in these positions from time to time. I get it, I do, but all this shit hit us last minute and we don’t have anyone else who is up to par with our procedures. Otherwise, I would put someone else on her.” I know he understands not only what I’m feeling, but just how convoluted this mission has become for me. “I’m so sorry, man. We need you—really need you. It’s not like this is some small operation we’re dealing with. This is a very sensitive task with lives that could be on the line. There is no room for error.”
Resting my elbows on the table, I drop my forehead into my hands, and close my eyes in defeat. “Yeah, I know,” I mumble toward the table, my voice reflecting pure misery. “I’m gonna need a few minutes to wrap my brain around this.” The base of my skull begins to throb; the beginning of a headache is building right behind my eyes. “Just give me some time to digest before we delve deeper into this shit, okay?” I ask, rubbing the sides of my temples with my eyes closed.
“Let’s all take ten, okay?” Quinn suggests. I can hear everyone shuffling, filtering out of the computer room to give me some much need space. “Stryker?” Quinn prompts. I look up at him and see the concern etched on his face. “Are you going to be able to handle this, brother? You do realize this is an out-of-country rendezvous, and anything can go wrong. I don’t need you getting killed because your head’s not in the game.”
The consternation in his voice is highly evident. I know this operation has the potential to turn dangerous. All of them do. It’s been a little over a year since we’ve decided to take on another major undercover op such as this, but we’ve always stayed prepared for anything.
“It’s just… this job is right up your alley, being a medic and all. You’d fit right in for the missionary work, and if anyone’s got the charm to pull this off with Valerie, it’s you. The fact you have history with Valerie might work to our advantage.”
I nod in agreement, knowing I have to come to terms with this situation somehow. “Yeah, Quinn, I know. I can work my pretty boy charm while deceiving the one girl I wish I didn’t have to… again.”
“Dammit,” Quinn sighs. “I’m am so fucking sorry.” I know he hates these circumstances for me every bit as much as I am.
I drop my hands flat on the table and look Quinn straight in the eyes. “I guess this makes her a suspect too then, right?”
Quinn shrugs, wearing a grimace on his lips. “It’s hard to tell. Everything I’ve dug up indicates Celia and Valerie are inseparable. They do everything together. They act as if they’re sisters.”
“I’d like to think she isn’t involved in whatever it is we’re trying to dig up. The Valerie I knew was sweet and innocent. She wouldn’t know a drug deal on a street corner if she were to walk right into the middle of one. But hell, spending six years apart from someone you once knew rather intimately... I guess it doesn’t mean much anymore, does it? It means anything is possible.”
Quinn frowns, deep lines creasing his forehead. “I can see your pain, and if I had the medical background, I’d take your place in a heartbeat. Lexi would just have to deal with it.” The look on his face tells me he’s being completely sincere.
“Something tells me Lexi wouldn’t deal with it, but your heart’s in the right place. I also know our mission would suffer if you weren’t the one to work on all the behind the scenes logistics,” I admit. Not even a computer guru would know how to work on all the special equipment he has. I’ve only got a couple of days to psyche myself up for this trip. I may as well start now.
Slowly, I let a sly grin take place on my face as I lift my chin, pointing to Quinn’s stomach. “I got this, Quinn. I know some of us are getting old and out of shape. Not to mention you’ve kind of lost your charm with the women.”
He laughs out loud. “Fuck off, asshole.” He is far from being out of shape, but it’s my way of letting him know I’ll be all right, or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.
Quinn pats me on the back, and tells me, “I don’t know how much you know about Valerie’s background, but she was once married.”
“Yeah, she told me. She still had on her wedding ring when I saw her last night. Told me she’s a widow now.”
“That’s all true,” Quinn says, wearing a frown. At least I know she wasn’t lying to me about that.
“What happened? To her husband, I mean.”
“Fatal car accident,” Quinn begins. “It was last year around this time when Valerie and Celia were on another mission trip together. I found out her and Celia have been doing these trips faithfully every year for the past four years. Anyhow, there was a wintery storm-mix of ice and snow back home, here in Raleigh, while they were away. Her husband was driving in it. A semi had lost control on the ice, crossed over two lanes on the highway, and hit his car head-on.”
I run my hand over my mouth, processing Quinn’s words. “Damn.”
“Well, it gets worse. They had a son together.” Both my brows rise in surprise. She never mentioned a son to me. “He was in the car too. They both died on impact. She lost her entire family in the blink of an eye.”
I lean back in my chair, stupefied, the room falling quiet. After a few minutes of digesting this information in silence, Quinn continues, “She was married for about six years.”
“How old was their boy?” I ask.
“He was only four.”
“Damn, she got a raw deal.” My heart squeezes in pain for her. I don’t even want to know what it’d feel like to be a parent and lose a child, your own flesh and blood.
“She basically went into a severe depression. I don’t know who wouldn’t, but her husband was well off. Really well off. From what we can tell, she hasn’t even touched the life insurance money she received. It’s been sitting in the bank gathering dust for the past year. She hasn’t gone anywhere or done anything for that year.”
“Which means her first real outing was running smack into me.”
“It would seem so.”
“So where does the FBI come in?” I ask, needing to know now.
“The FBI had their eyes on Valerie’s dead husband, Graham Lawrence. He owned a global construction business. Was highly successful with it—”
“Wait a minute,” I interrupt, and my gut begins to churn. “For Valerie to have married someone as successful as that, I’m imagining she had to step outside of her age range to do so. How old was this guy?”
Quinn opens his laptop and types on a few keys, searching for the information. “Says here he was thirty-five when he married.”
I rest my lips against my fist, my jaw muscles working furiously overtime as I try to stay calm. “So there was a thirteen-year difference between the two,” I bite out. It really doesn’t matter how old the guy was. I’d still find something wrong with the bast
ard.
“Yeah, afraid so,” Quinn says. I briefly close my eyes and will my blood pressure to stay under control. She married a thirty-five-year-old man at the ripe age of twenty-two after knowing him presumably what? Less than a month? Looks as if she was after only one thing in this life, and she sure as fuck found it. She totally fooled me. I never thought her to be one to marry for money, but there you go. Why else would she have married only a month after our breakup? A fucking month! Who the hell knows? She could have been reeling him in behind my back while we were dating and using me as a backup.
“Stryker?” Quinn prompts.
I run my hands over my face and exhale, looking up toward the ceiling. “I’m good, Quinn. What else you got?” I ask curtly, wanting to finish up with this debriefing.
“Graham had first fallen on the FBI radar several years prior. They picked up on large sums of money being transferred around, and it was confirmed that the money wasn’t coming from his construction business. You can bet it has to with either sex, drugs, or an illegal trade of some sort. It’s always one of those that revolve around money and politics, just like bees around honey.
“I’m sure, at the time, Graham had been feeling the heat from the FBI, but when he died, all activity came to a screeching halt and there was nothing left but dead ends. It wasn’t until last week, when the FBI started noticing large sums of money being shuffled around again. You see, they never took their eyes off those accounts, but it wasn’t the act of money transfers that raised their brows.”
“What was it? What put the case back in full force?”
“There was fresh money being added into the mix, and it was as if someone was trying to dilute and disguise it.”
“Laundering?” I ask.
Quinn thinks about my question then shakes his head. “No, it’s something way bigger. Something behind the laundering. The FBI has been able to recently trace all the transactions to a computer IP address, which happens to be at Valerie’s residence, and we both know neither one of those women have jobs, let alone lucrative ones. Whoever did it made a stupid move, exposing themselves. I guess they got too comfortable, and that’s what the FBI was waiting on, a sloppy mistake.”
