“You enjoy the rest of your evening.” Harding grabbed her upper arm, giving her a light squeeze, then propelling her toward the reception area and then through the glass double doors.
“Will do.” Grueber waved.
“What was that for?” she asked the second they were free. It was cold outside, and the wind howled, but never had cold, dusty night air smelled sweeter.
“You and I both know he’s a dirty cop. Why poke him further?”
“So what’s your big plan now, Mister Bigshot Private Detective? So far, we’ve learned exactly squat about my grandparents and even less about this kooky, awful town.”
“My plan is for us to find Randy. I still think he’s the key to whatever’s going down.”
“How are we supposed to find him? I’m sure the mine has already closed.”
He wagged his phone before opening the passenger-side door for her. “That’s why I have Sawyer. He’s a whiz with addresses. I also plan on having him do a little background checking of our own on this crazy-ass town.”
While Harding paced outside the burger joint that was about ten miles north of Green Fork, Olivia sat in the SUV inhaling the last of her fries. Before now, she’d never fully understood the concept of stress eating. Tonight, unwrapping her fried chocolate pie, she totally got it.
Her fear level being trapped in that jail cell while her grandparents were still missing was beyond any previously measurable scale—even worse than when Harding had been shot. At least then, she hadn’t had long to wait before knowing he would live to fight another day. The longer her grandparents were out there in the canyons, exposed to the elements or possibly worse, judging by the nutballs in this town, the more terrified she grew.
Wind blew hard enough to rock the heavy vehicle. It whistled through cracks in the doors and windows. Dust particles in the air made her eyes itchy and dry. Were Shirley and Dude lying somewhere exposed to this bone-chilling cold?
Harding opened his door, climbing behind the wheel. Before he had a chance to close the door, wind took the empty bag their burgers had been in. He snatched the soaring bag midair, crumpling it into a ball.
“Did Sawyer find Randy?”
“Yes and no.”
“What’s that mean?” She’d just taken a bite of the delicious pie. A glop of chocolate fell.
Harding leaned sideways, wiping her chin with his finger. He licked his finger clean. “That’s good. You sharing?”
No longer hungry for pie when she stupidly craved his touch, she passed him the remains of her dessert.
“Thanks.” He devoured it. “Damn. That was seriously good. Should I grab a couple more?”
She shook her head. “Well? Randy’s address? The background checks?”
“Right. He lives a ways out, as in Sawyer had to find him via satellite maps.”
“But you do know where he is?”
Harding nodded before pressing the button-style ignition. The engine roared to life, drowning out the wind. “Last call for fried pie?”
“No thanks. I ate too much as it is. What did you find out about the rest of Green Fork’s welcoming committee?”
“Sawyer’s still working on specifics but did find a few red flag crime statistics.” He pulled up the interactive map Sawyer had sent, then turned onto the highway leading back to their favorite town.
“Such as . . .” She leaned her seat back, curling onto her side. In the dash lights’ dim glow, she looked hauntingly beautiful to the point that it made Harding lose track of all rational thoughts but her. How much he’d missed her. How he’d give anything to get her back. But not the one thing she’d specifically requested—letting go of Trident. She’d been playing dirty to ask. She knew how much it meant to him, made him feel alive and needed and part of something larger than himself. On the flip side, in the couple of days they’d been together, the physical toll their journey had taken was plain to see. Dark shadows haunted her gaze. Her full lips he’d never grown weary of tasting seemed frozen in a perpetual frown. Even her sagging posture had taken on a defeated tone. Of course, she was concerned about her grandparents’ wellbeing, but if she’d felt even a fraction of this level of pain while he’d fought for his life from that bullet wound, then he got it. He understood why she hadn’t been able to deal with his livelihood. “Harding? Where’d you go?”
“Sorry.” He hated that he was leading her straight back to danger. “I’ll fill you in on Sawyer’s intel, but first, I have to apologize for not understanding where you were coming from.”
“What are you talking about?” The furrows between her brows deepened. He wanted to run his finger along the lines, erasing them. He wanted to bring her grandparents home safe and sound and never have her stressed again.
“When we broke up, you said things I didn’t get. I had no frame of reference to gauge how you truly felt. But now, I’m seeing how all this crazy is just another day for me, but for you . . .”
“I hate this, Harding. I want my grandparents back. Hell, I’m just exhausted enough to admit part of me wants you back, but not at this cost. You’re a trouble magnet.”
“Not really. It’s more like I tend to wind up in neighborhoods where trouble lives.”
“Wow . . .” She half-laughed and half-cried while the powerful vehicle ate miles. “A neighborhood implies a soft place to land after the end of a hectic shift. A cozy house. A cat purring on the sofa. Not a jail cell. The fact that you genuinely seem to believe all of this is a game you always win is just wrong. At any point during this insane day, did it ever occur to you that what we were going through wasn’t normal? Did you care? Your pride was more wounded by the fact that you couldn’t pick the lock on a jail cell than the fact that we’d been taken in at all.” Her tone had grown screechy. Prior experience taught him that wasn’t a good thing.
“Point of fact, we learned a lot from that experience. Sometimes it’s better to go along for the ride and see where it takes you.”
She tossed up her hands, letting them smack against her thighs. “And sometimes it’s nice to curl up on the couch with the man you love with a great movie and bowl of popcorn. But you never got that either. Now, I remember why we broke up, not that I ever really forgot, just that being around you again was temporarily confusing.”
“Whatever. Help me find Pinto Road.”
“Like a pinto bean?”
“I’m guessing the horse? But they’re both spelled the same, right?”
Something about his question must have struck a chord deep inside her, as she burst into laughter, which was initially beautiful but then shredded him when her laughter mixed with ugly tears. He leaned past her to pop the glovebox. There were no soft tissues but plenty of rough fast-food napkins. He handed her one. “I l-love you so much,” she said between huffing sobs, “but I can’t be in love with you.”
“Swell. You reached this decision based on my asking a spelling question? And look for our road. Should be coming up on the right.”
“You know what I mean. Is that it?” She pointed to a dirt side road flanked by a half-dozen leaning mailboxes and the skeletal remains of a forgotten structure. Only the framing studs and part of the roof were left of what once might have been a flourishing business.
“Yeah. Thanks.” The old place reminded Harding of the state of his relationship with Liv.
Making the bumpy transition from smooth pavement to hard-packed dirt, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been filled with a deeper sense of unease surrounding a case. It could have been the personal attachment to the outcome of getting Dude and Shirley safely home. Or maybe this whole town’s spiraling levels of deceit. The more he discovered, the more he felt as if he still needed to learn. The whole while, the clock was ticking on finding an elderly couple who could be sick or injured or worse. That latter category caused the most concern. How would he begin consoling Olivia if they found her grandparents dead? Worse, never finding them at all. Per Sawyer, that kind of thing happened far more around t
hese parts than statistics would label coincidence.
“You never told me what Sawyer said.”
Shit. He’d hoped she wouldn’t ask. The road surface had deteriorated to the point that he pulled over to put the transmission in four-wheel drive. “Not much. It’s not a big deal.”
“Then why aren’t you telling me? That fact alone makes me think it’s a very big deal.”
“Woman,” he gunned the vehicle forward, “you are a pain in my ass.”
“Likewise. Tell me.”
He sighed, tightening his grip on the wheel through a hairpin curve. The incline grew steeper. The road width narrower. Vehicle-devouring drop-offs became the norm with each switchback. Since wrestling with a parachute that hated him, Harding had hated heights. Fighting to slow quickened breaths, he focused his concentration on the narrow band of coppery-toned dirt the headlights revealed.
“I’m waiting.”
“And you’re doing an excellent job.” He held his breath when the rear left tire hung for a moment before grabbing its next bite of road. The current curve was sharp enough that for an agonizing few seconds, the lights yawned into the vacuum of black night. Call him a drama queen, but this wasn’t cool.
“What’s wrong? You’re sweating.” Olivia used a napkin to wipe his brow. “Are you sick?”
“I’m fine.” His heart thundered.
“No, you’re not. Pull over.”
It took a half-mile to reach a road section wide enough to allow that luxury. By the time he did stop the SUV and released the wheel, his hands trembled and ached from having gripped it so hard.
“Honey, what’s the matter?” Her voice was velvet to his ragged nerves. How long had it been since she’d called him an endearment? Had it been a slip? Or did he dare hope for deeper meaning where there was probably none?
“I’m fine.” Tell her. If you don’t, you’ll look like an even bigger wuss than you currently do. The click of her unfastening her seat belt made him flinch.
“Now, I know something’s wrong.”
“I got spooked by that road, okay? I’m human. Nothing on this planet scares me except for heights. And I’m not talking like being on a plane, but steep drop-offs like back there.”
“Has this always been a thing?” She was petite enough to sit on the center console, cradling him in a sideways hug. Her touch made everything better. How had he ever been stupid enough to let her go? Oh, that’s right—her leaving hadn’t been his choice.
Swallowing hard to regulate his air, he shook his head. “Back in my Navy days, my team was on a HAHO night insertion into hostile territory. It was voodoo from the start. We took off in rain and heavy crosswinds. I deployed my chute at twenty-seven thousand feet. No problems, but then I noticed a buddy had tangled lines. He signaled he was okay, but I could tell his situation was getting worse. He pulled his reserve chute and all was good. I’m not sure what happened next, wind shear or equipment malfunction or negligence on my part, but I was at the top of my team’s stack when my cords tangled. I kicked my legs and pulled my reserve but got nothing. I was falling faster, but rain fell so hard I couldn’t see. There was just a black yawning void—like back there when all I could see ahead of us was nothing.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this? What happened? How did you survive?”
“Almost didn’t. Chute finally opened. Broke a lot of bones. Healed. End of story.”
“But it’s clearly not the end. Not if you’re still this upset.”
Embarrassed to have lost control, then and now, he shrugged. “I’m fine. We need to get going.”
“Let me drive.”
“No way.”
“Why?”
Because I’m the man. I’m supposed to protect you.
“Give me a logical answer or you lose this debate by default.”
“Pride,” he admitted.
She made an obnoxious buzzer sound. “Hand over the fob.”
“What if we run into trouble?”
“What if you drive us over a cliff?”
She made a good point. So he forced a deep breath, put the vehicle in park, then climbed out of their ride. Olivia met him between the headlights in the narrow space between the bumper and a cliff-face. They were sheltered from the wind, and her hug should have been comforting but only made him miss her more. Even with her body pressed against him, he’d never felt more alone. Because this wasn’t about a single hug, but facing the rest of his life without her.
Resting his chin lightly atop her head, he said, “I love you.”
“I love you, too, but . . .”
“Just this once, leave out the but. I know we’re not together, but I don’t want to hear the rest. I can’t believe my own body let me down like that. You know I’m not used to failure.”
“How is compromising a failure? So what if heights freak you out? You know from firsthand experience that if I see a spider in my bedroom, I’d rather sleep outside than have to get close enough to kill it.”
He chuckled. “Remember that time there was a . . .”
“Yes!” Laughing, she landed a light swat to his chest. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”
He caught her in another hug, and not thinking, just acting on pure instinct, he closed his eyes to kiss her, softly at first—as if in a dream. But then she moaned and parted her lips, inviting him closer with a sweep of her tongue. He kissed her and kissed her, bringing truth to every cliché. She was air to a drowning man. Water for the thirsty. Food for the starving. He’d never let her go. But because she no longer wanted him, he had to. So he found the strength to step away. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Just saying. It won’t happen again.”
“Good.” She tucked flyaway strands of hair behind her ears. “I mean, not that it wasn’t nice kissing you, but . . . You know what I mean.”
“Sure.”
They each backed into their new roles with her in the driver’s seat and him catching a ride. He hated it. Hated this flaw in himself. In Florida, this would never be an issue. In Denver, if he spent time in the mountains, it could be, but he wasn’t about to test it.
“Quit pouting,” she said along with what he assumed was meant to be a comforting smile. “This isn’t a punishment. As soon as the road levels out, I’ll pull off and we can trade back. Besides, this frees you up to tell me what happened with Sawyer.”
While she backed the SUV out of the tight space, he groaned.
Back on the road, once again facing his irrational fears, the feeling of looming dread returned tenfold.
She took one hand from the wheel to glide her fingers between his. “Relax. Close your eyes.”
“Shouldn’t you keep both hands on the wheel?”
“I’m not the one who jumped from a perfectly good plane.”
“Great point.”
Deeper and deeper into the darkness she drove for at least thirty minutes. The road had transitioned into more of a dirt trail lined with ghostly pinion pines. Branches grabbed the side panels, gnashing and clawing. Uneven terrain made the ride feel more like a jostling carnie ride than a casual drive.
Harding’s eyelids grew heavy. He nodded off, only to jolt awake.
“Go ahead and sleep if you want.” Olivia said. “I’m assuming Randy’s the only one crazy enough to live out here.”
“According to Sawyer.”
“You ever going to tell me what he said?”
“Nope.”
“Whatever it is, Harding, you don’t have to protect me like I’m some damsel in distress. If this is about my grandparents, I have a right to know.”
“It’s not.”
“Promise?”
“Sort of?”
“All right, now I’m really . . .”
“Watch out!” Three deer stood in the road’s center, frozen by the light.
Olivia slammed on the brakes, but she hadn’t been going much over twenty mph, so stopping wasn’t a big deal. Laughing, cov
ering her face with her hands, she asked, “What’s that old saying about deer caught in headlights?”
“No kidding, right?” They watched the beautiful creatures graze on the side of the road before two got spooked and bolted. The third turned his head away from them, sniffing as if sensing danger. The young buck had just looked back when a gunshot rang out. The deer collapsed, half of his head blown away.
Olivia screamed but then covered her mouth. “What kind of sicko would do that?”
“Him.” Harding nodded toward plain-clothed Sheriff Grueber who strolled their way wearing black cowboy boots, jeans, a red plaid shirt and black felt cowboy hat. He carried an M4 Carbine assault rifle as casually as a Scooby Doo lunch box. Prick. Four other men walked behind him. None were in uniform, but Harding recognized the charmer who’d hauled them into the station.
“What should I do?” Olivia asked.
“Nothing. Let them make the first move.” He slowly reached to the glovebox for his Glock 19, removing the safety to chamber a round.
“How about y’all come out of there nice and slow?” Grueber shouted over the engine’s idle.
Harding volleyed, “How about you go fuck yourself?”
“Should I back up?” Olivia asked.
“Go forward—fast.”
“What? You want me to hit them?”
“That thing I wanted to avoid telling you?”
“Yeah?”
“Come on out, pretty lady!” Grueber smiled while knocking the tip of his gun on the hood. “I had a hunch y’all would end up out here. You and I have business to conduct!”
“Do it, Liv. Run him down.” It was the only good option. They were seriously outgunned.
“I-I can’t just kill a man.”
“How about if I tell you this whole crew gets their kicks from human trafficking? Sawyer told me the twenty-mile radius around Green Fork has more disappearances per capita than anywhere north of Tijuana.”
“Wait—what?”
“People passing through have a nasty habit of vanishing. The state tourism board covers it up. Even better? Our friends back at Ollie’s? They get their kicks by running up credit card bills and pocketing the change. Six months ago, twelve-year-old twin girls surfaced in a Libyan raid. They said they’d been eating cheeseburgers at Ollie’s, when they used the restroom. Men came through a hidden door, gagged them, and for months they were used as sex slaves to . . .”
Exiled (SEAL Team: Disavowed Book 4) Page 5
