One Minute to Midnight (Black Ops: Automatik) (5 page)

She hadn’t cut the flirtation off at the hotel bar. He’d clearly been tuned to her signals. But she’d allowed it. For the sake of the operation? For the sake of the unique charge that shook her when Ben stood this near?

“Did you follow the signs of my attraction?” She ran her fingers through her hair and twisted a thick strand between them. “You did, didn’t you?” Her voice raised in pitch and she playfully patted his forearm. “But how could you fall for that?” She licked her lips and kept them parted as she looked him over. He seemed susceptible to the simple symbols of seduction, and a look of desire rose in his eyes. But had she trapped herself? Her own need rose. It felt too good to be regarded that way by a man who knew more than just the soldier in her. She returned her face to neutral. “Just classic fieldwork tricks.”

But his heat remained high. “I saw some tricks, but I saw some truth.”

“A testament to my skill.” He was right, though. And it had been liberating to show a little of herself to someone.

“You might be trained, but I’m experienced.” His body remained neutral near her. “Mary Long can tell me to fuck off, and I’ll still give one thousand percent of my effort backing up ‘Bolt Action’ Mary on this op.”

She believed he wouldn’t let their bizarre flirting get in the way of their safety or the mission. Same went for her.

“I’m afraid Ben Louis is getting to Mary Long.” Was she admitting it for her alter ego or herself? It didn’t matter what name she operated under, the same heart pounded as she continued this dance with Ben.

“Was it his wit? Or his smile?” He flashed that easy grin and got her blood pumping even faster.

“His honesty.”

His face grew serious. “That’s hard to come by these days.”

Sparks of excitement tingled in her fingers and up her legs. Like doing a HALO jump into foreign territory. She didn’t want it to stop. “Mary Long needs a kiss from Ben Louis, to see if he means what he says.”

He approached. Her thrill rose higher, into her chest. His hand stroked down her shoulder and arm. She stepped away from the car and closer to him. He wasn’t that much taller than her, but broader, and seemed to envelop her and shield her from the world around them. His heated gaze moved over her face, slow and deliberate. No rush toward an end. It was all meant to be savored.

His jacket was thick, but she still felt how solid he was as she moved her hand over his ribs to pull him nearer. He cupped her elbow and the two of them swayed a moment in a dance to find balance. His mouth dipped to hers. She tilted up to meet him.

The kiss surprised. He was confident, but not forceful. Firm lips that communicated there was more potential than just a kiss. Fueling her own needs. Heat spread deep in her belly and between her legs. She pressed harder against him, opening her mouth to him and seeking out her own answers. Was it real? Was it part of their cover? Her tongue darted out, found his and drew him into her mouth.

It felt like the truth. His need and hers. His hand tightening on her elbow. Her wanting to pull him closer to her chest. The heat they shared in the cold parking lot.

It was too real.

She ended the kiss.

Their hands remained on each other. Heat continued to pulse through her. She knew how to fake all the signs of seduction but understood that the desire on Ben’s face had to be genuine. And her own rushed breath had been inspired by the kiss.

She glanced over his shoulder at the diner. “We sent a message.” But frustration bit into her. The kiss shouldn’t be over. There was so much more to discover, now that she felt signs of life beneath her armor.

His focus remained on her. “They’ll know Ben Louis is a closer.”

She looked up at him. “What’s Mary Long?”

He considered for a moment, which was unlike him. Usually the slick answers came quickly. His hand moved from her elbow. “Unafraid to take what she wants.”

She slid her hand off his side, and the chill air crept between them. “That explains why she’s heading to the train yard when Eddie Limert told her not to.”

The cords of his neck tensed with the prospect of danger. “Want backup?”

She shook her head. “Too suspicious. I won’t press so hard I can’t get out.”

“Right.” He nodded. “We’re here for fact-finding only.”

“Until they get too tight.” She held up a fist between herself and Ben so only he could see it. “Someone makes a play, they’ll regret it.”

He bumped her fist with his own. “Be safe.”

The small touch bloomed like a grenade between them.

An atmosphere of menace polluted a far corner of the parking lot, where the semis were parked. “You, too,” she said.

Three truckers, not the ones she’d marked as carrying handguns, watched her and Ben with more than just passing interest. One of them talked on a cell phone and communicated short sentences to the others. The men hitched their pants up and rolled their shoulders in preparation for a beat down. Ben flicked a look to them then to the police officers in the diner. One of the cops was just hanging up his phone. A serious calm washed over Ben. She recognized it. Battle ready. He knew what was coming.

And he still managed a small wry smile for her. “Time to put on a show.”

“Want backup?” She’d seen Ben’s capable hand-to-hand work. It shouldn’t be too much trouble, three against one. But it didn’t feel right leaving a teammate to fight alone.

“Thanks.” He gently ran his hand down her arm. “But it’s got to look natural.”

“You can still punish them.” She wished for a little of the action, just so she could control a fragment of the tension building in the town around them.

He brightened with a smile. “You know it.”

She got her keys out but hesitated. It still burned her to leave him. A partner. The man she’d just kissed.

He cocked his head toward her car. “I’ll be fine.” His sly eyes slipped back to the truckers. “The cops are trying to send a message without getting their hands dirty. I’ll keep it from impacting our mission.”

“I’ll circle.” She still felt how his lips had slid against hers.

“They’ll notice.”

Was this how Mary Long and Ben Louis would part?

She brought herself closer to him again and stole another kiss. Even if she wouldn’t be there, she was backing him up. Trusting him to take care of himself. The way he trusted her to operate in her sector.

A kiss between a man and a woman. A kiss between soldiers.

He let out an appreciative growl when they parted. Her frustration wasn’t sexual this time as she moved away from him. She burned to stay and help him finish the fight. But he was right. She had to force herself out of the coming conflict. She got into her car and jabbed the key into the ignition. He held the door open for a moment to lean down and give her a wink, then closed it securely.

She turned the engine over, and the radio started blaring pop. She immediately killed the volume as Ben chuckled at the music. But she didn’t need to apologize, and his levity was gone in the silence.

The tires rolled slowly out of the parking lot. She had to go. She wanted to stay. Through the rearview mirror she saw Ben turn from watching her and walk toward his car. There was a bounce in his step, as if he’d just kissed the girl and had no idea the fight was coming. The three truckers detached from their rigs and approached him. She turned a corner and lost sight. Her frustration rose, laced with anger. Was it because of their operation? Or the kiss? She made a silent promise to Ben, one she’d never tell him, that she’d never leave him without backup again.

Chapter Five

Cold weather always made the hard points of a fight ache more. Knuckles and knees and elbows were already raw from the chill. Get them hit, and the pain was like frozen lightning bolts. He blew in his hands and rubbed them together as he approached his car.

Did he still taste her? Was it his imagination that filled his head with the scent of hot roses? The kiss had hit him like one of her sniper rounds. Out of nowhere, and he was on the ground. Flirting was one thing, and the little touches they’d shared had reinforced the act for anyone watching. But there was more to that kiss than their cover. Honest need. And a challenge that he had to be truthful.

He had been. She’d taken his breath away.

He’d wanted another, and he’d gotten it. Totally unexpected. The mysteries of Mary did not end. Pursuing them would take him way out of the safe and distant life he’d been leading, leaving him exposed.

Way more exposed than standing in this half-empty parking lot while three truckers sauntered their thick selves toward him. None of them appeared to be carrying handguns. All three had pocketknives clipped to their pockets. He had two knives on him. If the bullies wanted to get things deadly, Ben could reach for the compact 9mm strapped to his ankle, but that escalation would change the whole profile of the operation. One shot fired, and he’d have to go completely dark until extraction or a larger force could arrive to take on a full fight.

“You guys hear I was giving away the performance bands?” He opened his bag. Either the compact flashlight or the collapsible baton inside could be used to dissuade an attack. “I’ve got enough for you. Perfect for your circulation during those long days in the captain’s chair.”

They didn’t look interested. They just looked mean. Two were around the same size. Broad shoulders and thick arms. One of them wore a knit cap, and the other was shaved bald. The third trucker licked his lips and blinked hard. Whatever he was cranked on kept him lean. Heavy boots on all three men.

The big guys made the first wave of the attack while the tweaker hung back, shifting from side to side eagerly. The men were brawlers, rushing Ben with closed fists. Wild fury reddened their eyes. A primal show of force meant to intimidate the victim and win the fight before any punches were thrown.

Ben stood his ground, stayed loose and let the wave of violence crash toward him. The knit cap trucker led the way. He cocked his fist back for the first devastating strike. Ben ducked low and kicked out into the side of the first trucker’s knee. Ben’s cold shin immediately ached.

The trucker’s scowl of rage cracked into a shocked look of pain. He bent awkwardly and listed hard to his left. Bald trucker’s attack slowed. He didn’t stop to help his friend who fell to the ground; instead his footsteps became lighter as he had to pick his way around the man.

Three openings on the bald trucker would allow Ben to finish the fight: side of the neck, groin, temple. He didn’t take any of them. These men, and anyone watching, couldn’t know the extent of his skills.

The bald trucker stumbled his way into Ben’s guard and grabbed him by the shoulders. Again, he had options. The most flamboyant of which was to completely flip the trucker onto the hard asphalt. But that would reveal martial arts and combat training.

It didn’t mean, though, that Ben was willing to lose the fight. He just had to roughen the edges on his usually sweet H2H game. A subtle twist of his torso pulled the bald trucker off balance. He pressed forward awkwardly as Ben maintained his balance and slid backward.

The bald trucker leaned hard on him, open mouth stinking of chewing tobacco. Ben dipped for leverage, balled a fist and drove a hard jab into the man’s solar plexus. Bald trucker grunted hard, then ran out of breath. His grip loosened on Ben’s shoulders and he fell into his body while convulsing for air. Ben slid sideways out from under the weight of the bald trucker, who went to his hands and knees, wheezing.

From half-standing, the knit cap trucker lunged forward and punched Ben in the stomach. It came from an awkward angle, and the man didn’t have his full force behind it, but the blow still stung as Ben tightened his abs and controlled his breath. He’d had worse sparring in the MMA gym where he trained.

The knit cap trucker hobbled onto his one good leg and tried another swing. Ben leaned back from this one and raked a backhand across the man’s face. The trucker’s head was hard, and pain jabbed into Ben’s knuckles. It would take a lot to knock him out. But from the way he blinked, he wasn’t quite ready to take another hit just yet.

The tweaker wanted a piece of the action, though. He hissed and rushed Ben.

And all the while, Ben knew the cops sat in the comfort of the diner and watched everything. Wouldn’t have taken much for them to saunter out and break up the fight with a casual, “Alright, fellas.” But he bet they’d incited the fight in the first place in order to get him out of town. The peace they preserved didn’t include Ben.

There were no weapons in the tweaker’s hands, so Ben pretended to be overwhelmed by the onslaught and backpedaled. Hard blows rained in from the tweaker, and Ben closed his guard. Quick punches landed on his shoulders and glanced across his forearms. The tweaker jumped from side to side, and Ben caught glimpses of knit cap trucker getting completely to his feet and the bald trucker collecting his breath.

Ben let one of the tweaker’s wide punches through his guard. Hard knuckles scraped Ben’s jaw. The flash of pain lit his fuse. He wanted to demolish these men. He wanted send this whole town the message that he’d level anyone who came across him.

But he had to do it right. As an operator with Automatik. And Mary’s partner in the field. Winning this fight didn’t have to look pretty. Total mission success would be the payoff.

Ben slapped another punch from the tweaker away and let his own fist fly into the man’s face. The man’s teeth rattled and he shuddered, dazed. Ben’s adrenaline masked the pain in his fist and he grabbed the tweaker’s collar and ran, making him stumble backward. Before the lean trucker collected his footing, Ben slammed him into the man in the knit cap.

The injured knee gave way, and the knit cap trucker fell sideways. Ben pushed the tweaker down with him, and the two men sprawled, tangled, on the asphalt.

Hard metal clicked. Ben angled away from the sound as a new awareness of danger pulsed hot through him. The fight escalated.

The bald trucker rose to his feet. One hand rubbed his chest where Ben had punched him. The other fist held a folding knife with a bright blade. It could kill. If the trucker knew how to use it. But it seemed like his intent was just to scare the fight out of Ben. The bald man rolled his shoulders and swung the blade out wide in sweeping slashes.

If Ben drew one of his own knives, the fight would be over quickly—with the bald trucker maimed or dead. But that would be the end of Ben’s mission. He kept his cool and his balance in the face of the trucker’s attempt at primal intimidation.

The resolve on the trucker’s scowling face seemed to waver as he came closer and Ben didn’t back off. Ben knew it took a lot to stab a man. Not many people were ready for that kind of violent intimacy. But he’d danced that dance and remembered the moves.

The blade arced through the air toward Ben’s ribs. He leaped to the side and chopped the edge of his hand down into the trucker’s wrist. The grip on the knife held, but the arm jolted away for a moment.

Ben curled two fingers tight and struck them into the bald trucker’s exposed throat. Not hard enough to kill. The man sputtered and gasped. Ben grabbed the side of his knife hand and twisted. The trucker’s arm bent at an awkward angle and he released the knife. The handle slid into Ben’s hand. He let the bald man fall face-first to the asphalt.

The expensive folding knife hummed, like it still wanted to taste blood. He could’ve used it to end the bald trucker on the ground, or to slash into the other two, who were finally getting to their feet.

Ben took a step back, the knife calm in his hand, even though his pulse was thundering. The knit cap trucker patted his jeans pocket over his own folding knife. The tweaker’s hand went to his back pocket.

Ben gave them no sign of surrender. “You ready for that, motherfuckers?”

The muscles in the knit cap trucker’s arm shook. He froze with indecision. The tweaker watched Ben’s knife, hypnotized.

Ben jabbed with his words. “You ready to bleed?”

The sons of bitches weren’t. Roughing someone up in a parking lot was easy until the threat came back at them. Their resolve drained, revealing watery fear in their eyes. But their scowling mouths remained ready to spit venom.

The knit cap trucker barked, “
You’re
not ready. You won’t be ready when the real pain comes. So get the fuck out of town or be sorry that you stayed.”

Ben remained silent. He didn’t retreat or lower the weapon. Their move.

The tweaker wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and checked the streak on the back of his hand. It was enough for him. He helped the coughing bald trucker to his feet and supported the woozy larger man.

The knit cap trucker still seemed to be on the edge of a decision. His hand remained over his knife. But his friends were out of the fight and wouldn’t be backing him up.

“I can’t help what’s going to happen to you.” The trucker shook his head, disgusted.

Ben thought about taunting the man back into the fight. Wouldn’t have taken much to get his anger back up and have that knife come out. Then Ben could finish things with him, show him how bad an idea it was to fuck with him in the first place. But the op took precedence, so he kept his head, and the knife at his hip.

The knit cap trucker took a step back and winced on his bad knee. The tweaker still bled. The bald man wheezed and held his arm close to his chest. The three of them left with a lot less confidence than they’d attacked Ben with. They walked back toward their trucks, glancing parting shots over their shoulders, as if to tell Ben it wasn’t over.

He knew it wasn’t. But whatever next escalation the cops had planned wouldn’t match the hellfire Ben and Mary and their team would bring down on this place as soon as they identified and mapped the gunrunning operation.

Seeing the knife might’ve piqued the cops’ interest, but they still didn’t come out into the parking lot. Maybe once blood had been spilled. Local blood. Ben didn’t expect any special treatment.

The heat of the fight diminished, leaving cold aches in his knuckles and on his jaw. He’d made it all look clumsy enough. He was fine with them thinking he was a badass, as long as they didn’t identify him as a trained operator.

His former attackers were all the way back at their trucks when he returned to his car. He thought about tossing the knife in a sewer drain along a nearby curb, but knew the cops were watching and would probably arrest him for littering. He folded the knife away and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Now they might arrest him for theft.

But he got into his car and started the engine without incident. The heater took a moment to kick in. He rubbed the ache out of his fingers and knuckles. Pulling his phone to alert Mary about the fight would look too suspicious. Either he’d appear to be snitching or bragging on social media. So he threw the rental into gear and headed out, knowing the truckers and the cops tracked every move.

He’d find another parking lot on the other side of town where he could let Mary know what went down. The crooked police tried to send a message. They got one in return.

Mary was out there alone. The bold, exposed kiss still shocked through him, even after the adrenaline of the throwdown in the parking lot. She’d shaken his understanding of her depths. But it hadn’t changed the fact that he’d never known a more squared-away operator than her. Still, bad things happened to good soldiers.

Someone in this town just got closer to pulling the trigger, and he had to let her know.

* * *

Mary arrived at the train yard with the open, optimistic smile of a salesperson. She exited her car and scanned the area, pretending to be excited by the possibilities. Inside, she was furious. Radio silence from Ben. She knew he could take on three local bullies in a street fight. But what if things had escalated? Had the cops come out of the comfort of their diner to get involved? If anyone pulled a gun, the whole complexion of the action would change. Hell, the entire operation in Morris Flats would change.

Her boots crunched on the oily gravel at the edge of the parking area. There was little transition between the city street and the hard industrial environment of the yard. She’d been hoping for an administrative building with clean carpeting and business offices, but only a collection of single-level cinderblock structures with metal doors and metal roofs stood before her.

The cars in the lot were a mix of very expensive and completely rusted out. To track down the gunrunners, she needed to talk to whoever drove the perfectly detailed crew cab pickup truck.

But this was a very private space. None of the building doors had any signs on them, not even a bathroom. Someone either belonged here or they didn’t. She definitely didn’t and would have to be very careful as she probed into the secrets.

Instead of heading to the first building, she moved around it, farther onto the grimy gravel and closer to where the train tracks cut the earth and the signal towers grew. It all looked like normal business, much of it unchanged for probably a hundred years. Metal clanged and white, black and Latino workers shouted instructions over huge idling engines. On the other side of the iron-and-steel forest were the warehouses.

A direct route wouldn’t work. She’d only get thrown out, and they’d be watching for her from then on. She readied herself and strode toward the closest low building.

Her phone buzzed the distinct pattern of the Automatik communication app. She immediately stopped to pull it from her coat pocket. A cold wind knifed over the flats around the train yard, bringing the smell of diesel and wrapping her in worry. Relief and heat rushed through her limbs when she read Ben’s message.