Easy Target (15 page)

Bear nodded. “Well, it’s more than just wedding photography and paparazzi using drones to get unique pictures. Those suckers are tiny now. Real sci-­fi stuff. You can be tracked by something so small you wouldn’t necessarily even see it.”

Bryan shook his head. “I don’t know if I can go there, man. Why? And who would be after us with that kind of technology? After her? It doesn’t make sense.”

He had to remind himself that Bear lived by himself because he had issues with paranoia, courtesy of his time in Afghanistan. Bryan wasn’t sure that he was ready to dive off that cliff with him just yet. But while Bear might be paranoid, the guy wasn’t stupid. Bear could read ­people, and he had to know exactly what Bryan was thinking.

As if he was reading Bryan’s mind, Bear changed the subject. “You need to be able to talk to your team without any chance of being traced. Correct?”

“Right. But not in person. We were going to meet up, but that’s out of the question now. It’s too risky.”
We each have too much at stake.
Leland with Anna and Zach, and Nick with Jennifer. “I don’t think any of us distrust each other, it’s just we know there is something going on that makes no sense.”

“Sounds like you need an online chat of some kind that’s data rather than text or voice. That way it can’t be traced.”

Bryan nodded. “Untraceable, yes. Most of what you just said was Greek, but a video chat with Leland and Nick together would be ideal.”

Bear slowed at a deep curve. “Well, you’re in luck, ’cause I’m sorta an expert at that kind of shit.”

Bryan smiled. Whatever other issues Bear might have, the man was a master with telecommunications.

“I can set up some data protocols and no one will be able to track where you are. You could even do a video conference call through a data app if you wanted to.” Bear explained the technicalities as they pushed deeper into the woods. The sunset painted the sky an exotic mix of purple, red, and gold, but there was no snow, despite the bitter cold.

Bear turned from the main road onto a gravel one, continuing on a rutted mud track that curved and twisted quite a ways into the forest, finally petering out in front of a surprisingly modern-­looking two-­story log cabin. The structure was all square angles and glass, with planter boxes filled with hardy winter evergreens and a deck overlooking a sheer drop. Even in the twilight Bryan could tell that the view of the valley would be spectacular during daylight hours.

Solar panels adorned the cabin’s rooftop. On the wood deck, a black wrought-­iron table and two massive chairs with upholstered cushions were arranged near a fire pit. Black iron lamps set on posts lit up the darkening night around the seating area. Bryan was momentarily awestruck. The cabin could have been in a magazine for upscale outdoor living. He’d underestimated Bear’s domestic capabilities.

Sassy stirred between them.

“Did you do this yourself?” Bryan asked.

Bear nodded. “Mostly. I hired someone to dig the water well and install the solar panels. But I did the other construction. I like my privacy, but I didn’t want to live in a shack.”

Sassy was rubbing her eyes and taking in the cabin as well. “This is remarkable. I can’t wait to see the inside.”

Bear smiled shyly as he turned off the ignition and unfastened his seat belt. “Thanks. It’s still a work in progress. I finished up most of it in October before the real cold set in, and I’ve got more work to do in the spring. But it’s been warm, and the electricity and water supply have been good so far this winter.”

They all got out of the truck and walked toward the cabin. A dog was barking as they climbed the front porch steps.

Bryan stared at Bear in shocked surprise. “You have a dog?” This man had done a 180 since Bryan had known him.

Bear nodded and unlocked the door. “Come meet Lily.”

“Lily?” Bryan laughed and followed Sassy inside. Lily turned out to be a four-­month-­old English bulldog who was growing into her dinner-­plate-­sized feet and had a serious snorting issue.

Despite her name, she was not going to be a delicate flower. But she was friendly and thrilled to have company. As soon as Bear had opened the door, she’d stopped barking and started dancing on her hind legs behind a baby gate in the kitchen area. Bear lifted the gate, and she obediently went straight outside.

“Okay. I’m officially impressed. You’ve got her housebroken? I thought you barely were yourself,” said Bryan.

Bear shook his head. “I’m not sure who’s training who here. It was a lot harder than they said it would be, but yeah, finally. Both of us.”

Bryan took a moment to look around. While the cabin had a second floor, the “footprint” was tiny. Bear had gone with the “less is more” decorating method, and in the very modern log house, it worked. A massive sofa and fireplace dominated the main room. The small kitchen area to the side had a breakfast bar and high-­backed bar stools made of split logs with cushioned seats.

“Bedroom’s up there.” Bear pointed to the spiral staircase leading up to a loft. “I’ll take the sofa while you’re here.”

Bryan nodded his thanks. He wasn’t going to argue about who was sleeping where. He was so wiped, he wasn’t even worried about how he’d deal with lying beside Sassy and not touching her. The thought of being able to close his eyes without being on alert was a siren call.

Bear would take care of them tonight. Bryan felt himself starting to unwind and anticipated the oblivion of his head hitting the pillow.

Lily came trotting back in the front door, and Bryan was headed for the stairs to the bedroom when he felt the buzzing vibration at his hip. There was an incoming text on his cell. Sassy was beside him at the bottom of the staircase and moving to pet the dog. She stopped in midstride to glance at the screen when he pulled it from his pocket.

The text was from Nick, but there was also a photo. At first the message didn’t make sense. So Bryan tapped the screen to enlarge the picture, and he heard Sassy’s sharp gasp.

The photo was of him and Sassy side by side in two separate shots: one picture was from his driver’s license and the other from Sassy’s press ID. He still wasn’t clear on what he was looking at until he saw the CNN caption emblazoned across the bottom. It was a snapshot of a CNN news bulletin on a television screen:

Fugitives sought for killing spree in Kingstree, S.C.

Under the picture was a one-­line text from Nick:

WTF, Hollywood?

Chapter Fifteen

O
H SWEET
J
ESUS
.

Sassy felt sick as the realization of what she was looking at hit. “They think we killed Otis, too?” She squeaked out the question as Lily sniffed around her shins and feet.

Bryan didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to Bear. “Did you say you have internet access?”

“Sporadic, but yeah, I have it. I use a personal hot spot when—­”

“Can you get me a streaming news channel?” Bryan interrupted, the tension obvious in his voice.

“Got a preference?” The big man was seemingly unbothered by Bryan’s terse tone.

“Try CNN.”

Bear nodded and headed to a sophisticated-­looking computer setup in the corner on a desk that Sassy hadn’t noticed until now.

Her chest felt heavy. She’d been holding her breath. “They think we killed Otis,” she murmured again aloud. “Poor Tilly. That man in the apartment you were talking to . . .”

“Was alive when I left and works for the DEA. He spun the story exactly the way he wanted it,” said Bryan. “I didn’t expect any less.”

“But the evidence. The gun that was used.”

“Won’t come out until after we’ve been apprehended . . .”

Or killed in the process.
The unspoken words hung in the air. He didn’t have to add them, it was understood.

Her brain felt numb, but that didn’t last long once Bryan found the news channel. CNN had a live report from the train wreck site that segued into how Sassy and Bryan had killed and robbed a man in a New York hotel, then shot a DEA agent in Kingstree as he was trying to question them about their recent travels to Africa.

The report implicated their connection, as well as AEGIS’s, to a drug and human trafficking ring. The newscaster alleged that Bryan and Sassy had killed not only the DEA agent and Otis, but Tilly as well. “The fugitives” were thought to still be in the area.

“No.” Sassy couldn’t breathe anymore and sat down hard on the bar stool. “They murdered Tilly. Why?”

Bryan’s jaw hardened as he watched.

“Killing spree, drug dealers, sex traffickers.” The reporter’s voice droned on for another horrifying two minutes with just enough truth twisted into the lies to make Sassy and Bryan look guilty as sin.

“But why kill Tilly?” Sassy whispered. “She knew nothing, not even our real names.”

“They’re tying up loose ends.” Bryan’s voice was glacial, and he never looked away from the computer screen. “They didn’t know how much we told her, or if she talked to Otis before he was killed.”

Sassy’s stomach roiled. She was going to be sick now. “Bear, where’s the bathroom?”

Her tone and the question had him ushering her upstairs to the spartan but modern bath off the bedroom. She hit her knees, lifting the toilet lid just as her stomach revolted. She kept her eyes closed as gentle hands held her hair back from her face and she emptied the meager contents of her stomach. Afterward, as she leaned her head on the cool porcelain and flushed the toilet, she heard water running in the sink behind her.

Too miserable to be embarrassed that her host had seen her throw up, she was just grateful she’d made it to the bathroom in time. When she saw it was Bryan who had bent down beside her to lift her hair and put a cool rag on her neck, she burst into tears.

Surprisingly, it didn’t matter that he’d seen her at her most humiliating moment. Sassy wasn’t a pretty crier; she never had been. And tonight was no exception. She clutched at his shirt, curled into his chest, and blubbered like a baby.

It was simply too much. She grieved for Otis and Tilly, even the man in the hotel, and the other at the Kingstree apartment, despite their wanting to hurt her. She didn’t understand the details yet, but she knew the train wreck had something to do with this nightmare as well. The thought of all those innocent lives lost, and the guilty ones also, overwhelmed her.

Bryan rubbed her back as she cried. Once she thought she felt him kiss the top of her head, but she was beyond caring. Gradually she quieted but found that once her emotional storm had passed, she couldn’t bring herself to look up at him.

“My God, Bryan. What are we going to do? By the time we straighten this out, it’ll be too late to help Trey. He’s going to spend the rest of his life in that jail.”

Leaning against the glass shower door behind them, Bryan held her as she curled deeper into his arms. He smelled like Dentyne again. The familiar cinnamon scent was comforting.

“We’re going to figure this out, Sassy. It’s going to be okay.”

“How?” she mumbled into his chest, painfully aware that in addition to all the other indignities, her breath could drop an elephant about now.

“I don’t know yet. I need to talk to Nick and see what we can do. This is part of the same ­people discrediting AEGIS, and I’ve got to get all the pieces on the table before I can fit them together. I could use your help.” He continued rubbing her back in tiny circles.

“But how will we do that and keep our location secret? There’s no way we can drive across the country now to meet your friends with our pictures plastered all over the news.”

“Bear is handling the communications end of things. That’s his specialty. He can help us contact Nick online without being traced. It may take a while to set everything up, but he’ll do it.” This time she was sure when he kissed the top of her head.

She looked at him then and considered the quiet confidence she saw reflected in his eyes. “Let me get cleaned up a bit. I’ve got to borrow some of Bear’s toothpaste or mouthwash or something.”

Bryan pulled her up with him as he stood. A beveled glass medicine cabinet hung over the sink, which was a repurposed galvanized bucket set inside a tiled countertop. He located a bottle of mouthwash and handed it over. She smiled at him in the mirror before taking a swig and gargling.

He left her alone to wash her face.

What are we going to do?

Despite Bryan’s assurances everything would be okay, she was very concerned it wouldn’t be. How in the world would they clear their names? Turning themselves in was out of the question. She knew how the system worked. By the time they were given the opportunity to present their evidence to those who’d listen, they’d be halfway to federal prison, and entirely too late to help Trey.

She had to find a way to circumvent the process. She’d do anything to save her brother. The only card she had was her job with the AP and her relationship with her editor. Would Howard Spear listen, or at least consider publishing a story that was from an alleged spree killer?

Howard was fairly pragmatic about that kind of thing. Spun the right way, the story could sell like proverbial hotcakes. But she had to have a good angle.

She sighed and stared around the bathroom. She did have a story of sorts. She’d lost her physical notes during the kidnapping in Africa, but she’d stored some things in her online cloud account. If she could access those digital notes, she could write about the trafficking and her experience in Niamey, along with what had happened to her there when she’d started asking questions.

And Howard would publish it. She knew he would. He’d left her those messages earlier this week clamoring for the story. But she needed more, a deeper angle.

Elizabeth couldn’t be definitively connected to Sassy’s information, at least not with anything that would hold up under scrutiny. The tiny bit of information Sassy did have so far was compelling, but it wasn’t proof. She needed to know
who
was behind it all.

That would be a story no editor could turn down, and the kind of evidence that would save her brother as well as get her and Bryan out of this mess.

T
HE TRAITOR SAT
in his office, fuming. One agent that worked exclusively for him and one cartel contractor dead, plus a trainload of ­people. Christ, this situation was completely out of control and had been for over a month now. How the hell had one woman overhearing a conversation caused so much shit?

If he could, he’d kill Ernesto Vega all over again, for being such a fucking idiot and insisting on taking Elizabeth Yarborough to the brothel instead of killing her outright, as they’d agreed.

It should have all been a slam dunk. The whole world thought the boyfriend had killed the girl. But if that reporter wrote a story detailing what Santos had told her about Venezuela, everything was screwed, and the house of cards he’d so carefully constructed over the years would tumble down within hours.

Why Juan Santos had told anyone outside the organization about the girl, he had no idea. Money, power—­whatever the reason, the snitch had paid the ultimate price for double-­crossing his employer. Ten years of successfully covering himself and working both sides quite profitably had been blown to hell when Santos had spoken to Sassy Smith. It was still hard to fathom.

He’d had the initial threat of Reese Donovan successfully eliminated years ago . . . by Santos, of all ­people. Then disaster had struck with that Colton raid earlier this year. The biggest damn coincidence was that Max Mercado’s wife had ended up in a hotel room next to Leland Hollis. God, one freaking chance in a million.

After that things had tumbled completely out of control with the Riveras and the Vegas. But even that had eventually worked to his advantage. Everyone had been too busy accusing each other to recognize that their silent partner was the real rat in all of it.

He had to find the reporter, or he was screwed again. And this time there’d be no coming back from it.

S
TILL FEELING SHAKY
, Sassy crept out of the bathroom and down the stairs. She needed to get a grip. She’d been taking care of herself for quite some time now and hated feeling so vulnerable, so helpless. Deep down, she knew Bryan wouldn’t take advantage of that, but her adult track record with men stepping up to the plate to help out when she needed it wasn’t good.

She stopped midway down the staircase. Bear and Bryan were huddled over the computer, deep in a conversation filled with techno jargon she could barely follow. Bear was typing as Bryan dictated. “Ambushed. DEA killed old man and wife. Use the following apps for communication to avoid detection.”

Lily pranced over as Sassy’s foot hit the bottom step. Bear looked up from the computer screen and grinned.

“We’re using email to contact Hollywood’s friend, Nick, so our location can’t be traced. No one can find us if we do this, at least not for a while. But it’ll take time to download the apps. Those burner phones can be slow. The microprocessors are underpowered, and they don’t have enough memory.”

Sassy felt her eyes glazing over. Tech speak was not her thing, even when she was at her best. Bear recognized the signs and turned back to Bryan. “I’ll need to set up something else if you want to have a real-­time conversation.”

Bryan nodded. He still hadn’t looked up at Sassy or acknowledged her presence. She came closer, the puppy following, and sat down on the sofa to pet Lily as the men continued focusing on the screen.

After a ­couple of minutes, an apparent reply came through from Nick. Bear read it aloud. “ ‘Are you in a safe place?’ ” Bear glanced up at Bryan. “What do you want me to say?”

“Tell him yes, but that we need to talk in real time. Remind him to use those apps.”

Bryan straightened and turned away from the captain’s desk. The unusual piece of furniture with the scrolled edges and antique-­style legs seemed out of place here in the rustic surroundings.

“ ‘Not in a place I can talk now,’ ” read Bear.

“Call when ready,” dictated Bryan. His gray eyes met hers and filled with a heat she wasn’t expecting; her breath caught.

She swallowed hard, and her hand stilled on Lily’s head. “How long will it take them to get everything together?” she asked.

“Depends on how fast they can download the applications and where they are. Could be a ­couple of hours,” answered Bear over his shoulder. “Hey, Lily really likes you.”

Typing at a breathtaking speed, he turned back to Bryan. “I’ll set things up to bounce the signal around a few places because I don’t know what your man Nick is using on his end. I’ve set the perimeter alarms here, and I’ve got cameras, too.”

Bear pointed to a separate monitor beside the larger screen he was working at and reached for a set of headphones.
Perimeter alarms? Cameras?
Why would a park ranger living in the middle of nowhere have such an elaborate alarm system?

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask when she recalled his words to Bryan in the truck. . . .
Medication can be a wonderful thing, but I’ve tapered off most of that stuff. I actually do yoga and shit to control the symptoms now.

PTSD?
Had to be after what Bryan had told her about the roadside bombing.

“Why don’t you two get some rest? I’m gonna listen to some music and set everything up for the call. If you want to get cleaned up or . . . something. I can keep watch and work at the same time. The alarm is programmed into my stereo system.” Bear put the headphones on and glanced back at Sassy.

He nodded as his fingers flew over the keyboard. Sassy watched, still a bit stunned at the speed at which he typed. What he implied wasn’t registering until Bryan reached for her hand and led her toward the staircase.

“Grab whatever you need from the closet,” Bear shouted, not realizing how loud his music was. The screaming guitars of Pearl Jam leaked from the headphones across the room. “Top left dresser drawer has clean T-­shirts and other stuff.”

Sassy blushed. The top dresser drawer had other stuff? What did Bear think they were going to do upstairs in an open loft with him just below them?

Bryan said nothing, raising one hand from the banister to signal his understanding as he climbed the spiral stairs and pulled Sassy along behind him. “I put our wet clothes in Bear’s dryer.”

“Great.” That was a relief. She didn’t like the whole commando thing she had going on right now.

He threaded his fingers with hers on the way up the staircase. She held on tightly, not realizing until they hit the top step that she was blowing her intentions of establishing equilibrium.