“Fine,” Tara huffed, “I guess it makes sense to look at all the angles no matter how absurd they may seem to me. I’m going to give my brother a call. He’s been trying to get a hold of me since yesterday.”
Ben simply grunted as he remained deep in thought.
“Eddie, what’s wrong?” she asked as soon as he picked up.
“You’re asking me what’s wrong? Are you insane? I thought you told me you were on a business trip for the museum.”
“I am.”
“You know your name hits whenever you’re involved with the police. Why am I looking at a domestic violence response call to a hotel near Colorado? Shot fired, male injured, one male fled the scene. Tara what’s going on?”
Ben shot a glance to Tara who shook her head for him not to interrupt.
"Eddie, calm down. I'm fine. I'm transporting the artifacts like I told you. I'm not in any kind of trouble. The incident at the hotel was because the cops didn't take it seriously. They didn't want to believe that some man was chasing us trying to steal the case with the artifacts inside of it. We're on our way to an airport near Denver now, but I don't know how much longer I'm going to have a signal. I was just calling to check in and let you know I'm okay. Stop worrying so much. I'm better these days okay? I'm a grown up,not the wild child of the past. Believe me? thank for checking up on me. It's nice to have a baby brother that cares so much."
"Of course I believe you, I do," he sighed, "It's just that this excursion of yours didn't start with full disclosure."
Ben cleared his throat and peered at Tara. She nodded for him to speak.
“Eddie, this is Benjamin Reynolds with Whitestone Security. I can assure you that this is indeed a business trip for the Museum of Vintage Arts.”
“I know, she told me all about you guys. I understand she’s supposed to be in good hands, but can you understand the worry?”
“I can understand it, what I want to know is what kind of network you’re running that you can tag your sister’s name across local databases without coming up with a million hits.”
Eddie laughed, “I have my ways and I have a lot of connections. I’ll tell you mine if you can tell me how Whitestone was able to get in and out of Panama to rescue that heiress without making a single headline.”
“You are a dangerous man, Eddie Samuels,” Ben laughed.
"I'm also a very good private investigator in case my sister hasn't told you. So, you do your job and get her back to New York safely, and I'll set up a meeting in Philly. We can trade secrets."
“I like the sound of that,” Ben smiled and so did Tara. Ben kept his eyes on the road, “I will definitely bring her home safely. You have my word on that.”
"Alright, Ben Reynolds of Whitestone Security, I'm going to hold you to that. Tara, I love you, be safe."
“Alright, Eddie. Oh! Before I forget, did you get the knife for Danny? Did she like it?”
"She's still not talking to me. I didn't get it yet, but it's on its way to me. Don't butt in, Tara. Let me fix it with her. If you talk to her before I do, she's only going to hate me more. It's only going to cost me a round at the range with a target and vest on my back."
Ben suppressed a laugh.
Eddie kept talking. "Promise me, Tara, to stay out of it. I know she's your best friend, but she's my girlfriend, or at least was...."
"I'll stay out of it as long as you're making good on fixing it. Tell Mom and Dad, I'm okay. We'll do dinner as soon as I get back."
“Alright, later.” Eddie disconnected the call leaving Ben and Tara to themselves.
Ben waited for Tara to say something more about her brother and his worried tone, but she went back to texting on her phone. Most likely to butt into her friend Danny's life. He laughed to himself, thinking of his younger sister. He realized it's been too long since he's spent time with his own family. Ben made a mental note to schedule time to visit them.
6
The serenity of the mountainscape ahead of them eased Tara's anxiety about the pending doom lurking from behind. She couldn't shake the feeling their thief was on their trail. It wasn't a constant thought, but every once in a while. A flash of the masked face with eyes and a voice demanding her to give over the artifacts. She didn't want to see that image every time she closed her eyes. Still, it was there.
Whenever the panic ripped through her, she’d shoot a glance over to Ben. He’d smile and say something to make small talk. While it occupied her mind for that minute, the lingering flashes of a man she couldn’t put a face to haunted her.
“What should I do?” she finally asked. While she wasn’t speaking to Ben in particular, she wanted to know the answer.
“About what?”
"All of this. I've been through this entire trip's itinerary. I went over the numbers three times, and nothing stands out. These artifacts are barely worth the trouble. They only mean something to the museum and Mr. Mallard. I mean, the public always loves a good exhibition story, but it's very rare that they care. I can't get his eyes out of my mind," she admitted.
Ben reached over to squeeze her hand, “It’s going to be okay.”
“Is it? What if we never find out what’s going on here? What if this guy that’s coming after us doesn’t stop even after the artifacts are at their final destination?”
Ben continued to rub his thumb over her knuckles, attempting to soothe the anxiety threatening to crash over her at any moment. "Take a deep breath with me, Tara. Breathe with me. Deep breath in, inhale through your nose. Let it all out, blow it out through your mouth. Let's do it again. In and out."
He went through several anxiety reducing exercises with her until he felt the steady pulse in her wrist. He'd held onto her the entire time, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, but keeping his ring finger pressed against the inside of her wrist, monitoring her heart rate.
“Thank you,” Tara mumbled, “How did you know what to do?”
“Practice,” he gave her half a grin.
“Really? You seem to be so well put together; no dizzying spells of crippling questions make you want to bend over at the waist.”
“I wasn’t always like this. I had a thing with a client-”
“A thing?” Her interest piqued in his choice of words.
He shook his head, "Not like the thing we have between us, but a thing where my client's safety was in jeopardy. I couldn't save him from being shot. I got injured trying to save him. It took me months to even function. I still have some trouble with it. Normally when I sleep, the shots come. I can see Jeremy's face. I can hear the wheezing of my own chest from the bullet I took in my lung trying to save him."
“Is he, um,” Tara couldn’t get the words out.
“He’s fine now. He actually recovered a lot faster than me. Jeremy’s brain works differently than the rest of us. He doesn’t process emotions like fear or anything else he deems irrational or illogical. He was able to let it go and move on. It took me months after the surgeries to even face myself in the mirror. It’s that shift you noticed after you were attacked, my second-guessing. The doubt. All of this reminds me of that. I don't want to see you get hurt, and it happened already. Both Tate and I let some two-bit thug get the better of us. I have these dueling sides of me where I know I'm fine. I'm ready to work, and I'm great at my job. Then there's this doubt that creeps inside of me and causes that anxiety you were talking about. I know how to deal with it better these days. Nights? Not so much."
Tara continued to press him, “What happens at night?”
"Nightmares." It's the only word he said.
The sadness, fear, anxiety, every thunderous memory of his past regrets clung to that one word. Tara believed his want of her telling him her dreams was as if it were the complete opposite of what rumbled through his imagination after he closed his eyes.
“Well,” her voice broke into the silence, “I hope your dreams are full of ecstasy instead of the not so satisfying stuff.”
"Thanks to you, my dreams
have become vividly entertaining. Hey, do me a favor," he smirked, which gave her hope of the mood lightening between them. "I need you to reach into that black duffle bag. There's a case in that side pocket. The SAT phone is in there with an extra battery and the car charger."
Tara unbuckled her seat belt, twisting and reaching into the back seat where Ben left his bag. She went into the pocket and pulled out the pouch. A smile stretched across her face knowing that she’d bent over and lingered in that position long enough for Ben to eye the dip in her back.
He took a sharp breath in through clenched teeth, “Tara, I’m going to need you to sit down. I can’t focus on the road with you like this. I’m very close to doing something you may or may not like.”
She laughed as she plopped back into her seat. “What did you have in mind?”
"I will have to let you wait and see. Maybe when we're not on a single lane mountain road where I shouldn't be distracted by thoughts of biting you..."
He stopped, and she sucked in a breath. Tara grinned, "That's not fair. You can't just throw that out there, especially when we have nothing but the road ahead of us. You're teasing me."
“Back to that again?” he quipped, “You will know when I’m teasing you. Right now, yeah, I’m teasing you.”
They laughed together and continued to flirt while dodging the pending anxiety waiting to crash over them at another point during the trip. The merriment between them shifted when Tara’s phone rang.
Rork’s voice came over the line, "Listen, guys, I know you're about to hit a spotty stretch, so I wanted to touch base with you. We went over the surveillance footage from the hotel and were able to get the plate of the car the guy drove away in. We had it returned to a rental car place a few hours ago, but he didn't take anything else."
“What?” Tara’s confusion echoed around the car.
Ben answered her before Rork could, "It means that he's probably aware that we're tracking the rentals. He either went to a different location entirely, stole a car, or he might be somewhere ahead trying to get the jump on us."
“How does he know the way we’re going? How would he try to get the jump on us if he isn’t following us? We’ve been fairly isolated on this mountain road for over an hour now. How would he know?” Tara’s anxiety kicked into overdrive, drawing Ben’s hand to her once again.
"He could have called the rental agency in case you told them where you were going to return the car."
Ben interjected his opinion, "Or he could have gotten the route update from Dr. Barrett since he insisted on you sending him the new itinerary."
“But I didn’t send him anything new because I’m not driving. I only told him we were taking I70. No mile markers or anything. I told him I’d call him once we got to Denver International to let him know where we were heading from there.”
Ben mumbled something under his breath. Tara didn’t take it easily, snapping at him, “What?! Say it, Ben! You don’t hold your tongue when we talk about everything else. Say it.”
“Barrett is our guy. We have to set him up. That’s the only way to flush this guy out. We have to set something up to get somebody to trip up here. We’re flying blind, Rork. It’s hard to do my job when we don’t have an adequate assessment of the threats against the client. I strongly believe it’s one guy working for one guy. Maybe there’s a way we can link him to whoever he’s taking orders from.”
“Let me get some more information,” Rork told him, “I don’t want to act too hasty and give up any last remaining leverage we have. I’m going to figure something out. Call me when you get to Denver. Calhoon, out.”
Rork disconnected the call.
7
Ben watched Tara from the corner of his eye.
“You’re worrying again.”
Tara sighed. "It sucks, you know. Every time we start to have a good time, we're talking about regular stuff, I forget how much crap has happened, and then it all comes flooding back to me with a memory or a phone call."
“So, let’s do that. Let’s keep talking. We’ll keep you distracted and me awake. Tell me why your brother is so worried about you?”
Tara took a deep breath, “Remember how I told you my friend Danny owned a bar right out of high school?”
“Yeah.”
"Yeah, well, she got swamped running the place. I didn't have a lot of friends back then, still don't, now that I think about it. I started college and getting my degree in fine arts and antiquities. It allowed me to travel around the country for one of my internships. Traveling to roadshows and learning the appraisal process was fascinating, but it also left me with a lot more free time than I could handle responsibly. So, every trip I took, probably once a month for about ten months, I did something outrageous. One trip, I got drunk with a bunch of people at a different school. We were in Jersey to see some exhibit or auction or something like that, I don't even remember to be honest with you. I missed the bus to take us back to campus, and I ended up hitchhiking back home."
“Why did you hitchhike?”
"It seemed like a perfectly great idea at the time. When you hear Eddie tell it, he makes it seem like I got kidnapped or something. I literally flagged down a group of chicks with my campus bumper sticker on the back of their car. I took a chance. One of the girls had just graduated and let me bum a ride to New York since they were headed that way anyway. It was pure luck with a hint of madness."
“How many other times have you thrown caution to the wind with your safety?”
She rolled her eyes, "You're starting to sound like Eddie. These were mildly dramatic infractions that everyone overreacted to because they found out about them after I'd already done them. They labeled me wild and irresponsible when I managed to get myself home safely every time. Well, not every time, there was the one time in Atlantic City, I got hit with drunk and disorderly. There was a fine, possibly bail set, the whole weekend was a blur. After that, Eddie told me that he wasn't going to help me anymore if I got into trouble again. He was right. I used him as my excuse to do whatever I wanted because I knew he'd help me. When I started thinking about Eddie and everything he had to drop and stop doing because he needed to rescue me, I felt like crap. I made a choice to stay out of trouble, and even if I'd gotten into anything, I accepted the consequences and made sure I handled it."
“That’s mature of you.”
“Thanks,” she snorted, “We all have to grow up sometime, right? So, what about you, Mr. Reynolds? Why security? Why, Whitestone?"
Ben had a million reasons why he wanted to join a firm run by his friends. He'd been a cop for about seven years, four of those were SWAT and before that in the military. He loved all his jobs until he didn't. The politics, the casualties, the constant battle between right, wrong, and procedures weighed heavily on him. When he blew out his knee on a raid, he opted for retirement. He didn't want to be on light duty, and according to the doctors, his knee would never be the same.
It was far from the truth. Not only did Ben rehab his knee to the same as it was, but he also surpassed expectations. He ran marathons, decathlons, anything to prove to anyone watching that he was capable. He pushed himself to be better than his old self.
Tara listened to him, relay all of it. From the moment he decided to go into the service, his time in the academy, to the day he got her dossier on his desk, she listened to it all.
“And in all of that time, no girlfriends? Fiancés? No serious relationships?” she pondered.
"There was a girl a few years back, but that was right around the time of my knee surgeries and training for the decathlons. She didn't want to train with me, and at that time, I needed her to do that if she wanted to spend time with me. She opted to go."
“That sucks.”
Ben shrugged, "Yeah, but I needed the time to grow up, heal, learn how to be by myself, and make myself happy, so I didn't depend on someone else to do it for me. Of course, all of that got turned upsidedown when my client and I got shot. It felt like the world gav
e me the finger, you know? Like everything I'd overcome and been successful at didn't matter because I let this thing happen."
This time Tara reached over to squeeze his hand as it rested on the middle console. “I’m pretty sure that I can say with certainty you did not let you or your client get shot. Bullets and the people who shoot them don’t tend to care what their targets allow. I’m sure you did everything in your power to avoid that very scenario. What about your family?”
"My folks live on a small ranch, enough to grow vegetables and stuff for a farmer's market in North Carolina. They're both retired teachers. My little sister, Caroline, lives in LA, actually. Or maybe it's Miami this year. She's engaged to a baseball player and moves whenever he gets traded, which is pretty much every season since he's not exactly in his prime anymore. It's hard to keep tabs on her, but I'm guessing Eddie can help me with that, " he said with a grin.
"He definitely can. I'm kind of hoping this trip shows him I'm okay with staying out of trouble. Even though it's been a rough go of it. I want him to trust me and my judgment. I need him to trust me when I tell him I'm going to be fine."
Ben sighed, offering her a smile, “He’ll see. I’m sure you can do this even if I have to carry you the rest of the way with those artifacts strapped to my back. So, what’s the story on them?”
8
Tara’s eyes lit up when Ben asked her about the dagger. This was her element. This is what she was good at.
She shifted her body to face him, "I had a dream about this the other night. It's a love story. A young warrior was in love with the Vizier's young bride. The young bride would sneak out of her home to visit her lover. The love of her life lived on the outskirts of Giza in a camp where soldiers were to protect the city's main entry point. She'd toss rocks onto the corner of his dwelling whenever she visited. He'd come out, and they'd share what few precious moments they could together.
Dagger of Danger Page 3