by Ivy Nelson
“What are you guys doing here?” Carrie asked.
“I’m here to keep you safe,” Reggie said, as if it were the most normal thing to do on a weekday afternoon.
“And I’m here to keep you from going crazy,” Olivia said.
Behind her, Peter said, “I thought you might like a prettier face to look at than Reggie’s ugly mug.”
Carrie turned around with a giggle and stared at him. “I take it you’re leaving me here while you and Gary go play superhero?”
Peter nodded. “That’s about right. Hopefully it works.”
Turning back to Reggie, Carrie winked at him and said, “I think you’re very handsome. Thank you for being willing to protect me.” He gave a small bow before he wandered to the kitchen saying he smelled pizza.
“Please be safe,” Carrie whispered when Olivia had left also.
Peter pulled her into his arms. “I always am, baby. Everything will be fine. You just be good and don’t give Reggie any lip. He’s ugly, but he’s good at keeping people safe.”
Carrie smacked his arm. “He’s not ugly. Be nice to your friends.”
Peter chuckled and kissed her head. “We need to leave soon if we’re going to make it on time. I’m hurrying home to you.”
As she watched him and Gary climb into his SUV, Carrie couldn’t get rid of the sinking feeling that they weren’t coming back.
Chapter Thirty-One
Peter navigated traffic and reviewed the plan with Gary. The rest stop was still twenty minutes away, and they were unsure of what they would find. As soon as Peter saw the note that was supposedly from Boomer, he knew it was a trap meant for Carrie. She was digging too much, and they wanted to silence her. There were still a lot of unanswered questions, but his main concern now was making sure his friend was OK. Boomer had been a big part of his life in his early CIA career, working multiple jobs together cultivating assets and agents for the agency. When Peter left for the Secret Service, Boomer had dropped out of communication, only calling Gary every few months when he could check in.
“The parking lot of the rest area is visible from the road, we’ll drive past it and see what there is to see and then we’ll circle back and pull in,” Peter said as they got closer to their destination. Earlier in the drive, Peter had called to check in with Upwood’s detail. The agent who spoke to him said he’d been holed up in his office all day and had no plans to leave anytime soon. That was good, hopefully that meant Peter could stay under the radar until he had what he needed to have him arrested if that’s what this was going to come to.
As they drove by the rest area, Gary snapped a dozen photos with the camera he had brought along. Flipping through them on the small screen he said, “I count three cars. Hard to say which belong to our henchmen.”
He flipped through the rest of the photos. “I see one person sitting at a picnic table but can’t make out any details. The rest are too blurry to tell us anything.”
Peter nodded. It didn’t look like they were walking into some kind of firing squad at least. Peter had his service issued weapon, and he knew Gary was armed as well. By now, Peter had turned around twice and was approaching the rest area again. He signaled that he was exiting and pulled off. When he was parked, he scanned the area. There at the picnic table next to the tagged trashcan, sat a man they both recognized. Instead of approaching him directly, Peter and Gary walked to the neighboring picnic table and sat down. Nodding a friendly hello to Boomer as if he were a stranger.
“Nice day out,” Gary commented as he pulled out his phone and pretended to be scrolling through it. Peter stood and stretched, hoping to appear like a tired driver.
“What the fuck are you guys doing here?” Boomer hissed as he looked down at his own phone.
“You really think I’m gonna let my girl come out here like this? I thought it was a set up.”
Peter watched out of the corner of his eye as his friends’ hands clenched. “It was. I just didn’t fucking expect anyone to show up at all. I thought my note was clear enough about that.”
Gary was already scanning the rest area looking for threats. “There inside the breezeway to the bathroom. I see one,” he muttered with a subtle nod of his head. Peter didn’t look. Just kept his focus trained on Gary and tried to act like they were two buddies having a friendly conversation.
“I’m being tested for my loyalty and Tom Neliand’s daughter is in that van over there. We’ve got about thirty seconds before they expect you to walk away, or me to shoot you. I hope you fuckers have a plan.”
“How many guns are trained on us right now?” Peter asked.
“Two in the breezeway behind us and two to the side in the van.”
Gary slipped a hand under his jacket. “Three against four? I think we can take them. We just have to keep Carla Neiland alive. How the hell did she get mixed up in all this anyway?”
“Can you take the two in the breezeway?” Peter asked, as he walked toward his own car. “We’ll take the van.”
They didn’t need Boomer to nod, he knew what he had to do. Gary pretended to toss something in the trash can and stretched once more. Peter gave a fake laugh as they passed by the van in question. Peter was closest to it, so he stopped and laughed again, pretending Gary had said something hilarious. Turning to face his friend, he got a glimpse inside the van. There was one man sitting in the front seat and he had a feeling the second man was in the back with the hostage. With a nod to Gary, he made a subtle hand motion and the two men flew into action with Gary yanking open the driver door with his weapon drawn. At the same time, Peter already had the side door open and both men fired in unison. Across the picnic area, two more shots rang out and Boomer came running for them.
“We have to get the fuck out of here before the cops show up. I assume I can ride with you fellas.”
Peter was pulling Carla Neiland from the van. “Are you OK, miss?” he asked.
She was shaking from head to toe, but she nodded. “Let’s get her to a hospital and call Tom.”
As they approached Peter’s SUV, he tossed Gary the keys. “I need you to drive, man. I’m not feeling so great.”
All of this had been a set up to kidnap and probably murder Carrie. He was grateful that she hadn’t been hardheaded enough to set up the meeting on her own.
“Why aren’t we going to the cops?” Gary asked as he started the engine.
“Because half of the fucks that would show up are on Diego Carrasco’s payroll. We’ll call the people I know we can trust once you get me the hell out of here.”
“You can’t escape that bastard,” Carla whispered from the backseat.
“Watch me honey,” Boomer said.
Gary drove the speed limit back to his house. On the way, they called Tom and told him the good news that Carla was safe.
“So, you’re a cop, Ripley?” Carla asked.
“See fella’s somebody who can use my proper name,” he snarked to Peter and Gary before turning to answer Carla. “Not exactly. Undercover operative is a better term for it. I’m gathering intel on Diego Carrasco and his crew. It will be hard to shut him down because of diplomatic immunity, but I can get the people in the U.S. who are funding the North American arm of his operation.”
Peter turned around in his seat and looked at his friend. “That’s the thing I don’t get, man. Why the fuck is Upwood helping him?”
“Do you remember Colombia?”
Peter nodded. He remembered that one all too well. Come to think of it, that’s the last time he worked with Boomer.
“I’ve been under since then. As we were preparing to send our reports so we could stop the flow of drugs into the U.S., Upwood shut me down. I realized then that he was dirty. Diego had somehow turned him, and he became a spy for Colombia of sorts.”
Peter whistled. That was fucked up. Boomer… err… Ripley continued.
“I contacted the then director of the CIA and told him what was going on, but he wanted me to get more intel. I told him th
e only way I thought that would happen was if I went undercover in Diego’s ring, so he approved it. Turned out to be easier than I thought. I started hinting to Upwood that I was thinking about retirement because the agency didn’t pay enough to put up with their bullshit. He had no idea I suspected him of being turned. That’s when the bastard started talking about how he knew how to make a few quick bucks. Back then he was just a station chief in Colombia. When Diego and I first met, it took everything in my power not to off the fucker right there. He was looking for people in the U.S. to help him find and recruit girls into prostitution rings, on top of keeping an eye on what he called his Colombian cattle. Girls from his own country that he was smuggling into the states.”
Peter cursed. “And Upwood was going along with it?”
“Upwood was using his position to call in favors and fast track visas to get girls from Colombia into the U.S. where they were being promised better lives in exchange for working for a few years at strip clubs Diego’s gang was controlling. And Diego, by the way is a corrupt Colombian intelligence officer himself so I knew I couldn’t just go to the police with this and I had already tried going to the U.S. government.”
Ripley’s knee bounced up and down as if he couldn’t control it while he told his story. “Things were going good and I was on the verge of having enough evidence to bring Upwood down and possibly Diego too. Then the bastard went and got himself named CIA director. When I heard that he was being named director, I knew I had to get out. He was going to have to go through senate confirmation hearings, so I started looking for ways to extricate myself. Upwood believed I had retired and was no longer working for the CIA and was just working for Diego. Once he took over as director, he would be able to see that I was still on the payroll even though my official jacket said I had retired, so I jumped ship and went to the NSA.”
Beside him, Carla huffed. Peter turned to her. “You got something to add?” he asked.
“I’m just not buying it is all. I’ve been forced to work in that damn club since Ripley’s goons here recruited me. Tried to leave multiple times and couldn’t. If he’s telling the truth, why didn’t he help me escape when I tried?”
It was a valid question. Not many people understood how far deep cover operatives really had to go to get the intel they needed.
“I couldn’t, Carla. I don’t expect you to understand or to forgive me, but I can assure you I do not have goons. Diego has goons.”
“And you’re one of them,” she spit.
“Ask your dad,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’m one of the good guys, Carla. I promise. Have I ever laid a finger on you or any of the other girls?” he asked.
With drooping shoulders, she shook her head. It might still take some convincing, but she would get there.
Gary cleared his throat. “We’re almost back to the house. Should we wait to finish your little story so Carrie and Tom can hear everything?”
They agreed to table the discussion until they got to Gary’s.
“I’m going to need to read my boss in on this or I’m going to get my ass fired or arrested,” Peter said. “Unless you think he’s connected too.” He peered around the headrest at Ripley.
“I don’t think so. I do think he plays a lot of politics and is willing to turn a blind eye to some shady shit if it’s going to advance his career though.”
Peter nodded. He was starting to see that most of the high-ranking positions in D.C. were filled with people like that. Was that what it took? Maybe he should rethink his goal to be named director.
“I figure we’ve got about twelve hours to figure this shit out before the FBI is banging on my door,” Gary said as he pulled into his driveway.
“Sounds about right.”
The front door flew open before they could even get out of the car. A tiny ball of blue and blonde hair came hurtling off the porch and toward them.
“Get your ass back in the house,” Peter hollered as he stepped out of the car. It was too late though, Carrie was to him and had her arms around him by the time he had both feet on the ground. His heart constricted as he pulled her into his arms. “I love you so fucking much,” he said as he hauled her up for a kiss.
“I’m so glad you came back safe,” she said through tears when he pulled away. Her eyes traveled to the other three people who had climbed out of the vehicle.
“Carla! I’m so glad you’re safe too,” she said when her eyes landed on the girl.
“Hate to break up the reunion but we should really get inside,” Ripley said.
As they made their way into the house, Carrie fell into place beside Ripley. “You must be the infamous Boomer,” she said with a friendly smile. Gary and Peter both snickered and Ripley growled.
“You guys are un-fucking-believable,” he said with a scowl. To Carrie he said, “Call me Ripley, please.”
Gary locked the door behind them as Reggie appeared. “Sorry, I couldn’t keep the little hellcat inside.”
Peter watched Carrie fight the urge to stick her tongue out at his friend and he chuckled. Good girl, he thought.
Ripley stepped around them and gave Reggie a bear hug. “Good to see you, man.”
The group gathered around Gary’s kitchen island, and he pulled out beer and soda for everyone. Olivia left to go to work, and Reggie wasn’t too far behind her.
“Let’s get Carrie caught up while we wait for Tom,” Ripley said. “He knows a good chunk of this already. The broad strokes anyway.”
Carrie had a notebook in front of her ready to take notes. Peter sat on a barstool next to her, his arm draped around the back of hers. He had no desire to be apart from her anytime soon.
“First of all,” Ripley said, “I’m so sorry for all the danger I put you in. Especially now that I know you’re Peter’s girl.”
Carrie waved dismissively. “I’m doing my job and without you I wouldn’t have met Peter.”
After taking a long pull from his beer, Ripley began repeating the story he’d started in the car.
“Wait,” Carrie said, holding up a hand. “Why didn’t Peter figure out that he was dirty in Colombia? Or why didn’t you tell him?”
“Peter was working a totally separate group of assets at that time. Our paths crossed rarely and in a situation like this, even though I trust Peter with my life, it’s always best to limit the number of people who know what’s going on. The bigger your circle, the more likely your cover gets blown.”
Carrie stopped him several more times as he told his story. When he’d finished recapping what he’d told them in the car and was about to finish the story, a knock sounded at the door.
All three men stood and withdrew their weapons.
“Jesus,” muttered Carla who had been quiet up until now.
“You stay right there,” Peter ordered Carrie as he and the other men began moving to the front door. Her eye roll did not go unnoticed. At the door, Peter watched Ripley’s shoulders sag in relief.
“It’s just Tom.”
They opened the door and pulled the man inside.
“Where is she?” Tom demanded, his eyes frantic as they scanned the entryway.
“In the kitchen man. Take a minute and pull yourself together though before we go in there. Let Ripley catch you up on a few things,” Peter advised.
The four sat in Gary’s front room while Ripley gave yet another recap. When they were done ten minutes later, he was ready to see his daughter.
Back in the kitchen, Carla still sat at the island and she jumped up when she saw her dad. Carrie was standing and had moved closer to the stove. Her phone was to her ear. When she heard the commotion of the reunion, she offered Peter a small wave. Then he heard her say, “I’ll have to call you back, Gina. It’s not a good time to talk right now.” Peter felt his heart drop. Why was she talking to Gina? When she finished her call, she crossed the room to hug him.
“Why was Gina calling you?” he asked as his arms went around her waist.
Carrie shrugged.
“I’ll tell you later.”
He fought the urge to push. They were supposed to trust each other, right? The group settled at the bar again so they could come up with a game plan after Ripley finished his story. Carrie put her phone on the counter beside her. When she bumped the screen with her elbow, her text app was open. Peter could feel his blood pressure rising as he saw the words on the screen.
I’ll e-mail you all the notes I took. I just don’t feel like I can print it. Conflict of interest and all.
He clenched his fists and blew out a breath. How could he be such a fool? She was a god damned journalist.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Carrie felt the air around Peter change as he stared blankly at the table in front of him. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“I’ll tell you later,” he snapped. Sarcasm dripped from his tone. What had gotten into him? She made a mental note to check again when Ripley was done laying everything out for them.
“I can’t force any arrests because Upwood’s fingers are in too many pies and the people I report to are willing to look the other way. The only reason they haven’t cut me loose is because I’ve also been providing intel on another target that’s even more valuable than Diego. That’s why I started leaking information to Tom and ultimately Carrie. Everything Carrie has is enough to bring down Diego and force the U.S. government’s hands to make sure that Upwood goes down too. At the point that it gets printed and picked up by every news outlet in the country, the bigwigs will have no choice but to act.”
“Just make sure you’re safe before it gets printed man. You know how journalists are.” Peter’s voice was bitter beside her. So, he still couldn’t get over her profession. Just hours ago, he was telling her how much he loved her. What the fuck was happening? Carrie tried not to glare at him. There would be time to get to the bottom of this later.
Tom’s phone began buzzing at the same time as Carrie’s. “Story just broke, four bodies found at a rest area outside of town,” Tom said, reading from his screen. “I take it that’s your handiwork?” He eyed each of the men sitting at the table.
