Hard Man to Kill (Dark Horse Guardian Series Book 4)

by Armstrong, Ava

  If he remained pissed off and frustrated, he wouldn’t get anywhere with this mission. He had to focus and concentrate on the task at hand. He trusted Rusty and Lara, and hoped to God they could pull off a miracle. The plane was banking and coming in for a landing. He sat down and put the seatbelt on, still deep in thought and closed his eyes.

  Gus slapped him on the back. “Worried, Chief?”

  “Nah, just thinking.” Ben managed a smile. “We got this.”

  Washington D.C.

  ~ Lara ~

  A group of satellite trucks had set up shop in front of the White House long before Lara arrived. Her first stop was to a hair salon, where she purchased a long blonde number along with plenty of make-up. She wrapped her head in the scarf and kept dark glasses on while in the store so the security camera would not get a good image. She made sure to turn away from the cameras, at least the ones that were visible. She entered the train station restroom, not the safest place in the world.

  No sooner did she get in the stall than she heard another person enter; then the voice of a man. “Pssst, come here, Lara, it’s me.”

  As she opened the stall door, she saw Rusty beckoning to her in the handicapped stall, waving her in. She got into the space with him and closed the door. Whispering and suppressing a wry little smile, Rusty helped her transform into someone else. With the blonde wig, make-up and jewelry, she began to look like one of the Channel 5 news anchors. Rusty kept his chuckling to a minimum, although she could see he was holding his breath. The door to the ladies room opened and closed. Women came and left in rapid succession, toilets flushing. No one needed the handicapped stall, thank goodness. Rusty finally spoke, “I’ll exit first and will hang around outside. Wait a few minutes and walk out of here toward your destination. I’m your bodyguard.”

  Lara did as he instructed. It was a better plan than she could have imagined. But then, he was a former FBI agent and knew every trick in the book, and probably invented some. She strutted through the train station as people stared at her with their mouths open. She was being mistaken for someone else, someone famous. Whom, she didn’t know. But her disguise was good enough to make the people at the train station point and stare. She felt ready for prime time.

  As Lara entered the side door of the guard shack outside of the senate building, she knew she was passing through the first layer of security. A female secret service employee went through her backpack and searched her bodily, then she was escorted to another area where she sat and waited. Another female in uniform brought her into a small room. “What is your business here today, Miss Rivera?” Lara had almost forgotten that Rusty had given her a forged identity.

  Lara spoke with a Spanish accent, “I’m here to see Senator Cohen. He is expecting me. Please give him the message that I am here early. My appointment was at 3:00, but he said to call him as soon as I arrive.”

  Lara was lying through her teeth, hoping beyond hope that Senator Cohen would know it was her.

  The uniformed woman made the call to the senator’s office, exchanged a few words, then she hung up the phone. “I’ll escort you up, Miss Rivera.” The congress building was filled with people coming and going. She imagined many of them were lobbyists with offices nearby for convenience. She recognized many of the politicians, as she passed them on the staircase or in the hallway. She garnered a few stares, but for the most part, no one took great interest in her. The people she encountered seemed to be wrapped up in their own little worlds, hurrying to attend a meeting somewhere.

  She was left in the outer office of Senator Cohen where his staff resided. “She’s the one I called you about,” the female officer said as she departed. “Have a nice day, Miss Rivera.” The door closed and locked. Lara smiled at the woman behind the desk, a middle-aged lady with her dark hair secured in a bun that looked too tight. She peered over her glasses at Lara, “Miss Rivera?”

  Lara nodded, “Yes, I am early, but let Senator Cohen know I have important information for him. It will only take a minute of his time.” The dark-haired woman disappeared, while two men in the far corner of the office were eyeing her and whispering to one another. Lara imagined they were mistaking her for someone else.

  As soon as the dark-haired woman appeared, she waved Lara toward her. “Come along, Senator Cohen has invited you in, but please be aware you have only a few minutes. He is due to attend an important senate intelligence meeting.” Lara knew the information she was going to give him could change everything in that meeting.

  Senator Cohen was sitting at his desk when she entered his office, but he stood and dismissed the dark-haired woman. Once the door was closed, he whispered, “Lara?”

  She removed the glasses and winked at him, “Yes, it’s me. But I’m undercover. You understand why, I’m sure.” She handed him the flash drive. “Preview this right now before you go into that meeting. It’s my reason for being here.”

  The senator moved to his desk and viewed the contents of the drive. “Holy Jesus!” was all that escaped from his lips. Once he recovered from the shock, he managed to ask her, “Where did you get all of this?”

  Lara peered at him over her glasses. “Don’t ask questions. It’s all legitimate. Use it as leverage against the four senators threatening to leak the information that will kill my husband and thousands of other innocent people serving this country.”

  The senator printed off the material and pressed a button. The dark-haired woman appeared. “Make four copies of this, immediately. It’s classified.” The dark-haired woman glanced at Lara, but hastily took the paperwork to the locked copy room off the senator’s office.

  “By God, Lara, I think I can do this.” He muttered as she watched beads of sweat forming on his upper lip. “I just hope it works.”

  “It will work.” Lara assured him. “Their egos are all that matters. But they’ll go down in a short time in flames. Once the senate leadership reads this, they will be asked to step down. The ties to the sex trafficking group and the drug dealers will sink them. They should be more careful who they accept money from. The intelligence report will be destroyed by then. You will make a few more enemies, but in the long run, you're doing the right thing.”

  As she was escorted out of the building, Lara hoped that Senator Cohen would have the gumption to go forward with the leverage he now held in the palm of his hand. He seemed like a man of his word. There was something about him that made Lara want to trust him. She saw Rusty out of the corner of her eye as she got back to the street in front of the White House. The news services had multiplied out front. There were food vendors feeding the crews, as lights and cameras were being set up. When Lara walked up to one of the rookie reporters, she asked, “I’m just curious – what’s going on here?”

  The reporter was young, probably twenty-something, and right out of college, “You haven’t heard? There’s a showdown going on in the Senate Intelligence Committee. Big news. We are here to get it first.” The reporter was called away for a moment, then he returned. His brown eyes lit up, “We just got a call from Senator Cohen’s office…he’s going to make a statement in an hour! Hot damn!”

  Lara turned and walked away with Rusty close behind. She got onto the Amtrak train and Rusty got on the same car but sat a few seats behind her. She sent a text to him on her phone, Thanks. He sent a text back to her, You’re welcome. As the train pulled out of Washington D.C., Lara felt her body go limp with relief. A few minutes later, Rusty walked down to the seat next to Lara. “Is this seat taken, Miss?” he asked politely.

  “No, it’s all yours.” She said without looking up from her magazine. Lara felt his arm against hers and her foot touched his. He pulled his cap down over his eyes and slumped into his snoozing position. But he wasn’t sleeping. He whispered, “You did it, kid. I just saw the news on my phone.”

  Lara whispered back, “No, we did it.”

  Guantanamo Bay, Cuba

  ~ Ben ~

  The sky was pink and gold as the sun slipped bel
ow the horizon in Guantanamo Bay. It was a lovely sight to witness. It was no more than a signal for Ben.

  There were few lights on the deserted bay where the cruise ship was anchored, and Ben put on the swim fins and goggles and slipped beneath the warm ocean water. His face and neck were blackened with resin and he swam underwater without making a ripple. He took his time getting out to the ship. Everything had to be done correctly with precision. No hurrying. He preferred not to use the breather. He loved swimming long distances beneath the surface. He touched his keeper making sure the mines were in place on his chest.

  Once he was alongside the vessel, the only sound was his breathing and the water lapping against the hull. He removed two magnetic devices and carefully attached them to the hull, one on the stern and one near the engine room centerboard. He climbed the stern ladder and moved around the deck strategically placing C4 devices in places they’d not be seen. Underneath the stern rail was perfect. Ten in all. The electronics were set.

  He climbed back down the ladder and slipped into the water. There was no wind. In the darkness, a mosquito buzzed around his head momentarily but he made no movement. Once finished with his task, he silently slinked beneath the water and swam in a southerly direction parallel to the shore. There was a large rock in the shallow water that would hide him as he emerged.

  As a Navy SEAL, underwater demolition was his passion. Although he was a skilled sniper and gifted in hand-to-hand combat, this was his true love. The quiet nighttime solitude of the ocean was like a tonic for his weary soul. He dipped beneath the surface and swam underwater until he got to the shallow edge. He pulled himself onto the wet sand and remained motionless for a moment near the rock. No one was around. The guards far away on the point had knowledge of his mission, but they didn’t know his identity. They’d been briefed hours before he landed.

  He removed his fins, slipped on water shoes, and made his way back to the barracks. Tired and hungry, he ate in the mess hall kitchen alone. Moments later, Moshe caught up to him. “How’d it go?”

  Ben smiled. “All set.”

  “Good.” Moshe slapped him on the back. “Have you called the Coast Guard yet?”

  “That’s my next task.” Ben said, “Right after I finish eating.”

  The men were in the conference room with Moshe. Alone and quiet, Ben sprawled upon his bunk and tapped his phone. “Captain Becker? It’s your favorite person.”

  The man on the other end of the phone laughed as he recognized Ben’s introduction. An old roommate from the Naval Academy, Becker was one of Ben’s best friends and was running a Coast Guard cutter between Florida and Cuba.

  “What’s the deal?” Becker asked. “The commander mentioned you’d be calling. I figured whatever you had going on would be nothing but trouble.”

  “It’s a boat by the name of The Fiesta, an older cruise ship. You know the cargo they’re carrying. It’s precious cargo, according to the government anyway. You will need to stop the vessel and board it. But, you need to get Captain Gooding off that boat long enough for me to do my thing. And, for God’s sake, make sure you are far enough away. And, somehow get the five crew members off there. I want them taken away, simultaneously.”

  “Sure thing, Chief.” Becker replied. “Don’t worry. I’ve got an idea that’s sure to work.”

  “Whatever it is, just make sure Captain Gooding and the crew are off that ship. You remember the signal, right?” Ben asked.

  “Got it.” Becker responded and hung up.

  Exhaling, Ben leaned back in his chair. The kitchen was quiet and he enjoyed the solitude for a moment longer. He knew he should join the team in the war room to go over the finer points of the mission in Pakistan. It was déjà vu really – he’d be hunting the same bastards he had put into Guantanamo Bay detention seven years ago. He thought of Sam and Javier. They’d given their lives for this shit. At moments like this, he understood with great clarity why veterans returning from Iraq and Afghanistan were suffering from depression and committing suicide. All that they had accomplished, given life and limb for, was being systematically dismantled before their eyes.

  ~ Lara ~

  Monique and Einstein were both asleep on the sofa when Lara got home that night. Two police detectives greeted her at the top of the driveway. “Just keeping watch, ma’am.”

  The two men told her to sleep well. Yeah, right.

  Although Lara had slept on the train, she was exhausted. The dog stirred as she entered the kitchen and he whined with delight to see her.

  Monique turned off the television. “So, how was your trip?”

  “Fruitful,” Lara smiled. “Thanks for staying with the dog. Please stay the night; I think it would be a good idea, seeing as we have Aaron and Tim stalking us.”

  Monique eyed her suspiciously, “Lara, exactly what’s going on?”

  “There’s a bit of a problem.” Lara knew she had to tell Monique but wrestled with the words she’d use. “We need to stay safe. Those guys following us….they’re connected with terrorists. They know I am Ben’s wife.”

  Monique’s demeanor changed. “You aren’t kidding. Oh God, Lara. What are we going to do?”

  “Nothing.” Lara said flatly. “I’m going to take Einstein out for his after-dinner walk, a very short one along the beach, then back to the house.”

  Monique stared at her, “I’ll come with you. I’ve been inside all day. Is it safe?”

  “The detectives outside are monitoring the security feed. It’s sophisticated and covers the entire perimeter of the property. Plus, they’re armed. I’m carrying, too. We do have to be cautious. Hold on, I want to change. I’ll be right back.” Lara walked down the hallway to the master bedroom searching momentarily for her sweatshirt and pants.

  Once in the quiet solitude of the room that reminded her most of Ben, she exhaled. Her energy was flagging but she wanted to go for the walk to clear her head. She so wished Hawk was there to talk with her. He always knew the right thing to say when she was filled with anxiety. But she was buoyed by Monique’s companionship. Securing her holster and Glock, she slipped into yoga pants, a sweatshirt and sneakers. Bounding into the kitchen, Lara glanced down at the ancient book of Shakespearean sonnets, paused, and couldn’t resist touching it lightly with her finger.

  “Where did that come from?” Monique asked. “It looks like an antique first edition.”

  “A good friend gave it to me,” Lara whispered. “Sometimes I touch it for good luck.” Lara noticed Monique was ready with the dog and she tapped the security code after putting on a fleece jacket. The two walked out. Lara’s sidearm was snugly resting on her hip. She fingered it relishing the feeling of safety it imbued.

  “Do you always carry that thing?” Monique asked nodding toward the 9mm Glock19 hidden beneath Lara’s sweatshirt.

  “Yes, why?” Lara replied.

  “I was thinking of getting my permit to carry…you know?” Monique’s voice drifted off.

  Lara smiled. “I know just the guy to help you out.”

  Walking Einstein along the beach seemed to center her once again, and Lara felt she was home in the safety of Clearwater Farm. Returning minutes later she caught sight of the officers at the top of the driveway.

  Monique nodded toward them. “So, these two are our bodyguards?”

  Lara smiled. “Yes. I’m glad they’re here, actually. I’m exhausted and will rest a bit easier with two seasoned detectives. Not to change the subject, but we have lots of work to do tomorrow. We have a few clients who need design work done. Are you ready to put yourself through the grinder?”

  Monique smiled for the first time in what seemed like days. “Yes, I’d like to sink my teeth into a project. What’s on the agenda?”

  Lara rattled off the latest projects and Monique was focused on the details of the work they had before them.

  This was good. Monique was gaining her footing. Bettencourt was gone, but she had accepted that he would return. She was hopeful. That’s all th
ey both clung to for the moment: hope.

  The next morning, tailed by police officers, both women had breakfast at the diner and unlocked the bungalow, ready to tackle the latest projects. The moment Lara unlatched the bungalow door thoughts of Hawk overwhelmed her. She inhaled deeply and moved to the closet to hang her coat next to the denim work jacket she coveted. Her fingers touched the fabric briefly.

  “You okay?” Monique asked.

  “Yes. I’ll hang your jacket for you.” Lara forced a little smile and slipped Monique’s jacket onto a hanger next to hers. She closed the wooden door, and the two sat in the living room while they sorted through the details of each task.

  “Do you want the Robinson project?” Lara asked Monique.

  “Sure. That’s the renovation of a massive library and living room. The one with the beautiful fireplace, right?” Monique asked.

  “Yes. Good for you to tackle. Don’t hesitate to ask for help. I wanted the Hoffman job. Oh look, they have three children. I’ll be designing their bedrooms. That will be fun!” Lara whispered.

  After a few minutes, Monique collected her materials and moved into the tiny side office to make phone calls. Lara moved into the other bedroom, now an office, the one where Hawk had been sleeping when he was there. She tried to not think about him for the time being. There were many days she had sat on the sleeper sofa in this room and sobbed, unable to stop herself. But now she turned her attention to the needs of three young children and the Hoffman family.

  The oldest Hoffman child was ten years old, her name was Rebecca. Then there was Samuel, he was seven. And, Jonathan was only five. Jonathan. That was Ben’s father’s name. She liked the sound of it and imagined if they ever had a baby boy, it would be one of the names she’d choose. For a second her hand ran over her abdomen and she imagined what it would be like to be pregnant with Ben’s baby. She knew he wanted children, but they’d never really had a lengthy, detailed discussion about it. Her greatest fear was raising a child alone. She pushed the thought out of her mind and concentrated on this Jonathan before her. She studied the photos of the existing room the client had sent along with a photo of the child. He had dark hair and blue eyes. Oh God. Little Jonathan Hoffman was adorable and he reminded her of Ben.