Capturing Sosimo

by Sara Blackard

  Her phone blared the trumpet call Reveille, and she groaned. “Good morning, Dad.”

  “Good morning? A good morning would include waking up and enjoying a hot cup of coffee while reading the morning news.” Her father’s voice sounded extra cranky this morning. “Imagine my surprise when I find an article about my daughter being in the middle of a shootout with terrorists.”

  “That was in today’s paper? It happened two days ago.”

  “I was catching up on the news, and don’t change the subject. Why didn’t you call?”

  “Honestly? It happened so late, and then yesterday was so packed with cleaning up the mess that I just forgot.” She rubbed her forehead, guilt thickening her throat. “I haven’t really been myself. I’m sorry. I should’ve called.”

  Her father sighed deeply on the other end. “I know how it is after a battle. Are you okay? You weren’t hurt?”

  She continued down the stairs. “I’m fine. The men you had me hire had the situation under control before I even had time to think.”

  “Good. They’re good men.”

  “I’m here at their complex until we figure things out. I’m staying under their protection until there’s no longer a threat.”

  He sighed deeply again. “Thank you, Junebug. Thank you for doing that.”

  “Dad, I promise. I’ll be safe. These guys are G.I. Joe on steroids.”

  “They better be. The Army Special Operations doesn’t produce flakes.” Her dad’s voice got the Army-proud tone to it.

  “I gotta go, Dad. I love you.”

  “Love you too, Junebug.”

  She tucked her phone into her pocket as she walked into the kitchen. The tightness in her chest for forgetting to call him had eased. She’d have to remember to call her mom later to relieve her worry. Though knowing her mom, she had fretted little. Her parents were such contrasts it amazed her that their marriage had worked. Where her dad proved all rough and controlling, her mom was laid back and gentle. She often said there was no point in worrying when she could just take it to God and let Him handle it. Maybe their differences made their relationship work?

  She just needed to find a guy that was her complete opposite, then she’d have the workings of a great relationship. But which her? She paused as she reached for the coffeepot. June, the introverted nerd who could spend hours and days tinkering with an invention with no social contact, had always been her go-to girl. But since the need for Reagan became more necessary as the foundation and her company expanded, the outgoing people-person grew on her.

  She shook her head and grabbed the coffee. Was she just arguing over which version of herself she really was? Not good, not good at all. Thankfully, Samantha and her adorable daughter, Eva, rushed into the house at that point and distracted her from her confusing inner struggle.

  “Good morning.” June’s voice trailed off at the look on Sam’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” Sam held tight to Eva as she glanced out the door. “Something’s wrong with Tina, but Zeke wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Who’s Tina?” June asked as the sound of a vehicle slamming its brakes in the rocks screeched outside.

  “The nanny.” Sam’s breathless voice caused goosebumps to breakout across June’s skin.

  She clutched the coffee mug tightly in her hand and stared out the front door like Sam. Anticipation built in her chest like a wet, heavy blanket. Sosimo stomped through the door, his presence lifting the stifling feeling. One look at his expression slammed it back over her.

  “Come, now.” He grabbed Eva from Sam’s arms and without another word led them through the house to the basement.

  He clicked a code into a keypad beside a door, which whooshed open with a groan. The thick door must weigh a ton. June’s dread weighted her feet so she had difficulty moving. Sosimo glared at her as he pushed the door closed.

  He put Eva down and pointed to a basket full of books in the corner. “Why don’t you go pick out a book to look through?”

  She rushed off to the basket, and Sosimo turned to a computer mounted to the wall. With two clicks, he had surveillance feeds up on the wall of screens. One screen showed the guys searching a car. A cute young woman sat crying in the driver’s seat.

  “Sos, what’s going on?” Sam voiced the question of the day.

  He glanced at June before turning back to the screen. “Reagan’s admirers strapped a bomb to Tina’s car.”

  June’s heart dropped to her toes and blood pounded in her ears. Everything faded to the movement on the screen. Her breath stuttered out when the woman jumped from the car, only to suck back in as Zeke reached into the car.

  Sosimo pointed to another screen as the car careened across the backyard. The boom and shake of the floor twisted June’s gut. Feeling rushed back to her hands and feet, almost buckling her knees.

  Eva whimpered, pulling June’s gaze to her precious face. June had to leave this place, go somewhere away from these innocent people. Maybe Reagan should disappear forever, and June could quietly take control of her life again. Because under Reagan’s management, she’d almost just gotten the nanny blown up.

  Sosimo’s gut twisted with the weight of what needed to be done. The lack of color in Reagan’s face had made him wish he had time to pull her into his arms and let her know it would all be okay. His anger toward the men who did this made his brain threaten to flush with the need of violence. He took a deep breath to cleanse the emotion away and rushed up the stairs to the living room.

  He marched to the fireplace and got right to business. “I’m taking her, just the two of us. I just put in a call to Cooper Ford. Remember, he just retired? He’s going to meet us in Amarillo. We’ll stay low as we travel to Fort Belvoir for her meeting.” He rubbed his neck as he paced. “If you guys are up for a bait and switch, you all could pretend to take her from here with flair, maybe get the jet and fly, changing flight plans before you land. If I take the Cinnamon from the old garage, she can lie in the backseat until we are away from here. Have some Mexican music blaring and my hat pulled low, and anyone left watching the complex hopefully won’t connect me to here.”

  Derrick nodded. “I’ll go get a pack together from the stables. You’ll want body armor and weapons.”

  “I’ll help.” Jake stood, and the two rushed out the front door.

  “Excuse me.” Tina stood from the stool at the kitchen island. “I’d like to help. I could pretend to be whoever it is you’re protecting. Make it more believable.”

  Sosimo was amazed by her bravery. “It’s not safe, Tina. Whoever is after her could attack.”

  She smirked and shrugged. “I’d love to get back at them for blowing up Sweetpea. That car still had lots of miles left to her.”

  “Okay, you’ll have to wrap your head, maybe wear sunglasses, but I think it will work.”

  Reagan came up the stairs. Her lips still lacked color and the freckles splashed across her nose seemed extra bright on her skin. She didn’t deserve this, not when all she wanted was to help keep soldiers safe. His jaw clenched in frustration.

  “Reagan.” His sharp tone snapped her head to him. He tried to soften his voice. “Pack your gear. We leave in ten.”

  From the way she flinched and stumbled up the stairs to the bedroom, he didn’t think he’d succeeded in the entire softening affair. He shrugged it off and turned to Rafe. He didn’t have time to coddle her anyway.

  “You’ll need communication that can’t be tracked. New IDs for her.” Rafe tugged on his beard. “I’ll get on that and get a laptop set up for you.”

  Sosimo clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks.”

  Rafe smiled, that gleam in his eye that always made Sosimo partly dread and partly anticipate what would spew out of the goofball’s mouth. “You know what they say about road trips?” Rafe cocked his eyebrow. “They’re the perfect opportunity for love to drive right into your heart.”

  Sosimo rolled his eyes at the ludicrous thought.

&nbs
p; “Seriously, Sos. Think about all that time alone … just the two of you.” Rafe rounded the corner of the couch as he headed to the tech room. “It’s the perfect recipe for love.”

  “Just stop.” Sosimo chucked Eva’s stuffed animal at Rafe. “We’ll only be alone for a day.”

  Rafe laughed and headed downstairs, singing loudly, “And I would walk five-hundred miles …”

  Sosimo shook his head as he walked to the hallway and placed his finger on the print lock for the drawers. Where did Rafe come up with this stuff? Sosimo thought about the way Reagan smelled like a field of flowers and how soft her hair had been when he’d moved it aside to unbutton her dress. He froze as the drawer clicked open, his fingers aching with the wonder of what it would feel like to take his time with the long soft tresses.

  Dang, Rafe. Sosimo cleared his throat and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He couldn’t afford to get distracted. He couldn’t screw up another person’s life. He grabbed his holster and handgun he kept stored in the drawer and put it on. He glanced at his watch and rushed up the stairs to push Reagan into hurrying.

  Her door was open, so he strode in. One of the bags he and Derrick had brought back from the hotel the day before sat on the bed with clothes half shoved in. His hand paused as he reached to push the clothes the rest of the way into the bag. Had they watched the hotel suite? Did he and Derrick lead these men to the ranch by not being more careful when they went to Aspen to tie up the loose strings? Ice raced down his spine as sounds of weeping filtered from the attached bathroom.

  He moved to the open door, his heart slowing and his throat aching. Reagan kneeled, curled over the toilet, her hair a curtain covering her face. When the retching stopped, great sobs shook her body. He grabbed a washcloth from the sink, ran cold water over it, and brought it to her.

  “Reagan?” He touched her shoulder only to have her curl away, laying her head on her arm draped across the toilet seat.

  Kneeling beside her, he ran his hand across her back. “It’ll be okay.”

  She shook her head. He placed the washcloth in her hand. Her fingers clenched tightly around it before she brought it to her forehead.

  “I almost got that woman killed.” Hiccups interrupted her voice.

  “No, that’s not your fault.”

  She sat up quickly. Crying had turned her eyes red and her skin blotchy. Hair sprung wildly about her face, making her look like a wrung-out fairy.

  “How can you say that?” Her eyelids bunched closed, and she pulled at the hair beside her temples. “What if Eva had been hurt?”

  She leaned over the toilet and heaved again. Sosimo’s ribs tightened around his chest, making it hard for him to fill his lungs. He pulled her hair out of the way, holding it until she finished. Gently, he pried the washcloth out of her hand, flushed, and eased her head off the seat.

  He cleared his throat as he wiped her face. “This isn’t your fault.”

  “It is. And you hate me for it.” She turned to look at the wall.

  “I don’t hate you.” His skin tingled with her words. “Why would you say that?”

  “I saw it in your eyes. You practically blazed a hole through me with your glare.” She pulled her knees to her chest and shuddered out a whimper as she laid her head on her knees. “I don’t blame you. I’m not too fond of myself either right now.”

  His stomach turned that he made her feel such guilt. He was a class-act jerk. He moved closer, leaning his head on hers.

  “I don’t hate you.” His voice barely passed the tightness in his throat.

  She looked up, a crease in her forehead as her green eyes gazed at him. “You don’t?”

  He shook his head and rubbed her shoulders. “I was upset with the situation. I’m sorry that I made you think that.”

  Her shoulders shook with suppressed tears. “I’m scared.”

  “I know.” He barely refrained from telling her he felt the same. “I’ll keep you safe. Promise.”

  Her face crumpled, and he pulled her to him. She twisted her hands into the front of his shirt as sobs shook her slight frame. He wrapped her tighter in his embrace, vowing to himself that he’d fulfill his promise no matter what it cost.

  Five

  Sosimo had pulled out of the hidden garage on the back side of the property half an hour after he left Reagan to finish packing. He’d changed into a button-up western shirt typical of the area and borrowed Derrick’s cowboy hat. As the beat-up, 1977 Ford crew cab he’d fixed up a few months ago had rattled and sputtered down the dirt road, he’d questioned if this plan would work.

  They had their gear thrown under the camper shell, and Reagan slept on the backseat. He peeked back at her, making sure the blanket stayed pulled up on her shoulders. She’d fallen asleep within the first five minutes of driving past the ranch’s main gate and hadn’t woken up, even when he stopped to get gas along the way. He understood the exhaustion that hit after an intense adrenaline spike. He hoped she’d sleep for a good while. Though with her already pushing close to three hours, she’d probably be waking soon.

  He turned his attention back to the road, thinking about how she’d surprised him. Not only her depth of guilt, but also her ability to push past that emotion so they could get on the road quickly. She’d only cried for a couple of minutes, pulling herself together and getting a laser focus on what she needed to take with her. The shift had left him rattled, longing for a few more moments of holding her close.

  He slowed as the highway curved around a sharp turn, the mountain walls reaching high into the sky and darkening the road. He’d taken the highway south, heading over the mountain and down toward New Mexico. He wanted to avoid the interstate and major cities as much as possible, especially at first. Maybe then, whoever wanted to get Reagan would lose her trail long enough for them to make it to Virginia.

  Something about all of this left his mind tangled and bunched, like words on the page often became from his dyslexia. He should be able to understand what was going on, but he couldn’t make sense of it. The emails she’d gotten had sounded like they wanted control of the invention, but then strapping a bomb to Tina’s car and demanding Reagan, made it seem like they wanted her. Why did they come out with guns blazing at the hotel? It made little sense. If he wouldn’t have jumped in front of her and taken a bullet to the back, she’d probably be dead.

  He’d told Rafe to dig and dig deep. The way these guys operated left Sosimo cold and clammy.

  Sosimo pulled into Ouray, Colorado, craning his neck at how the mountains opened up to nestle the town deep in the valley. The gorgeous landscape reminded him of the leave he’d taken in Switzerland. This might be a place he’d like to come to after all this blew over. He found a spot to park on the main street. He needed to stretch his legs before getting back on the road. He put the truck in park and turned off the ignition.

  Reagan sat up and gazed out the windows. The glassy eyes and fabric crease along her cheek showed a vulnerability that dropped boulders in his gut.

  “Where are we?” She peered out the opposite window.

  “Ouray, Colorado.”

  “It’s beautiful. I feel like I’m in the Alps.” She brushed her hair with her fingers.

  “My thoughts exactly.” He put his arm on the back of the seat so he could look at her. “We’ll find someplace to eat lunch before heading on.”

  “Great. I’m starving.” Her stomach stressed her statement with a growl.

  Sosimo chuckled as he got out and peered around. This place had an amazing small town vibe with the old houses that appeared to have been there for decades and the one street that drove the short length from one side to the other. The townspeople had built most of the buildings on Main Street in the style of architecture of the budding Old West—impressive stone buildings and false fronts. Any minute a horse could meander down the extra wide road and no one would take a second look. He could see to the opposite end of town where the highway curved up the side of the mountain headi
ng farther south. With the walls of the mountains jutting up close on all sides, Ouray had nowhere to grow and expand.

  As he waited for Reagan to get out of the truck, Sosimo took a minute to scan the people for trouble. He could definitely tell who the tourists were with their stocking hats, puffy North Face jackets, and completely put-together faces. That brand of upscale outdoorsy people so prevalent in Colorado. He also knew who the locals were by the no-nonsense looks on their faces and the cowboy cut of their jeans.

  The door to the truck screeched open, and Reagan stepped out. Her ginger hair peeked out of his ball cap, flowing down her back. She’d pulled a vest over her plaid shirt. Something about her casual look and the fact that she wore his hat hit him like a freight train. His mouth went dry at how unassuming and beautiful she was. While she’d never blend in anywhere with her stunning looks, she appeared like she’d just pulled in from down the street.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” She pointed to the army green hat with the American flag on it. “I couldn’t find anything to tame my hair with.”

  He swallowed and shook his head. “Nope. Glad you found something. Hope it’s not too nasty.”

  She smiled and shoved her hands in her vest pockets. “Not too gross. Not nearly as bad as how I get sometimes when I’m working on an invention.” She started walking down the street, and he fell in beside her.

  “Really?”

  “Once, I had stayed in the same outfit for six days.” She chuckled. “When I finally crawled my way out of my lab, my hair was a greasy mess and I reeked of stale coffee and B.O.”

  He smiled at the thought of her like that. “I’m sure it’s nothing compared to how I smelled after some missions I had to go on. This one time we hitched a ride into a hot zone in a truck full of goats.”

  “No.” Her eyes sparkled up at him.

  He nodded. “It was a four-hour ride in. The temp reached into the hundreds about a quarter of the way there. I’ve never smelled anything as pungent as hot goats in a contained area. I ended up washing my gear three times before I got the smell out.”