Wounded Falcon: Brotherhood Protectors World

by Jesse Jacobson

  “You didn’t say what you were doing here,” he repeated. He turned away, his back now to her. He dropped his towel and leaned over the dresser, opening the top drawer.

  He could not see Love’s face but sensed her eyes were roaming up and down his naked frame. He considered turning around and giving her the full show, but decided against it.

  “I’m here to talk,” Love said, offering no acknowledgement of his nakedness.

  Andrews casually pulled a pair of boxers from the top drawer and slipped them on. He looked at Love. She was attempting to look serious but her eyes were still carrying the glint of a smile.

  “Colleagues talk during business hours, in a conference room or even a restaurant. They don’t break into hotel rooms.”

  “I didn’t think this could wait.”

  “You could have called.”

  “Your phone is tapped.”

  Andrews raised his eyebrows, “You sure?”

  “Yep.”

  “You could have found me in the field, earlier today.”

  “For the moment, our conversations need to be off the books,” Love said. “I couldn’t let Carlisle or any of your colleagues see me.”

  Andrews walked toward her, now wearing only boxer shorts. He could see her body stiffened a little as he approached. She took in a breath and held it. The glint in her eye had faded, replaced by a look of bewilderment, as if she was trying to figure out what he intended. One thing was for sure, he had turned the tide. It was now Julie Love who was shocked and off guard. He sat on the corner of the bed, facing her. He formed the tiniest smile of his own.

  “Okay, you’re here,” he said. “What did you want to discuss?”

  “I think the charges against you are a smokescreen to cover up a truer intent,” she said. “And I think you may be in danger. I’m here to warn you.”

  Whatever sexual tension that had been building between them instantly flittered away, like campfire smoke rising fading into the night sky.

  “Is this some ploy to get me to talk to you?” Andrews asked. “Perhaps a new interview technique?”

  “No,” she assured. “I mean it. I think you’ve bent Rice’s nose out of joint in the past and he’s coming for you with bad intentions.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “What do you know about Wounded Falcon?” she asked.

  “Where did you hear that name?”

  “Never mind. Just answer the question.”

  “I heard the name of that operation right before I left for Houston, for the very first time. I know nothing of it.”

  “Bullshit, Andrews. Don’t lie to me. I’m trying to help you.”

  “It’s true. Right before I left for the airport, I was stopped by Summer Rose Red Feather. She told me that she saved my job by giving Rice a thumb drive with information about Wounded Falcon.”

  “Where did she get the information?”

  Andrews looked at her quizzically, wondering whether she was somehow playing a role to get him to divulge information.

  “Why do you ask?” he said, suspiciously.

  “Look, you muscle-bound lug. I’m trying to help you.”

  “Are you wearing a wire?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “This is legit.”

  Andrews paused and continued to visually inspect her facial expression and body language, looking for a sign that she was lying.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “Let’s say, I’m cautious. You came down on me pretty good at the restaurant and now all of a sudden you want to help me? It’s all pretty convenient, Agent Love.”

  Love rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. She stood and lifted her shirt. She slipped her hands under her bra and lifted it too, showing Andrews her naked breasts. There was no wire taped to her chest. She stood there for a moment as Andrews stared at her; his mouth agape.

  “Satisfied?” she asked.

  Andrews nodded; his mouth still open.

  She pulled her shirt and bra down, making some adjustments along the way.

  Andrews saw the look on Love’s face. This was no ploy. It was not an act. No agent would pull that stunt as part of the job. He’d stake his career on it, and in fact, he may be doing so now.

  “She got the information from Rainhorse,” she said. “He gave her the thumb drive.”

  What Love just said confirmed what he’d heard from Summer Rose earlier. Julie Love was on the up and up.

  “Summer Rose didn’t know much,” she continued. “The drive was encrypted. She said just mentioning the name about the operation damn near made him piss himself. What can you tell me?”

  “I assumed you did a little digging on your own,” Andrews said.

  “I tried,” Love admitted. “Information on the operation is locked down tighter than a camel’s ass in a sandstorm. I went through every back channel I know—and nothing. I can tell you, whether you know anything about the operation or not, Rice and Kelsey believe you do know . . . or are close to it, and they are very worried about it. I’m very concerned that they are worried enough to take . . . drastic action.”

  “Ms. Red Feather said the same thing,” Andrews added. “She thinks the whole thing is about forcing Lindsay Vanderbilt to flush out Rainhorse to kill him.”

  “I’m sure Rainhorse is high on their list, but this is not just about him,” Love said. “It’s also about you.”

  “Okay, thank you for telling me,” Andrews said. “We’ll discuss this in more detail in the morning. Where are you staying?”

  “I’m staying here,” she said. “Congratulations. You have me for the night. Lucky you. The hotel is sold out, and so is the one across the street. It’s late. I’ve traveled a long way and I’m exhausted.”

  “You can’t stay here,” he said.

  “Au contraire, Monsieur,” she insisted. “Don’t worry, Agent Andrews. Your virtue is safe. As much as I enjoyed your butt show a few minutes ago, I don’t care for men who have a tighter ass than mine.”

  He glared at her for a few seconds, “Okay, then. You get the couch.”

  * * *

  Across the street, in another hotel, Greg Alt was looking through his binoculars at the sheer window curtains. He could see two bodies moving about Agent Andrews’ room. He couldn’t tell much other than two people were there, and one of them was a woman. He saw Agent Love entering the hotel earlier—he never saw her leave. It was her. Director Rice was right. He was screwing her. Not that he blamed Andrews. She was a fine-looking woman. They were playing for the same team and it was not the FBI’s. He watched until the lights went out and pulled his cell, making a call.

  “Kelsey,” he said when the call was answered. “It’s Alt. I have eyes on them. She arrived at his hotel room just before midnight. She’s still with him. The light’s out. She’s spending the night.”

  “Rice was right,” Kelsey snapped. “She’s fucking the guy.”

  “Hard to think otherwise. Are we a go?” Alt asked.

  “We’re a go. Make it happen tomorrow.”

  “I will. I’ll take him out per the plan.”

  “Not just him.”

  Alt paused, “Agent Love, too?”

  “Yes. She either already knows about Wounded Falcon through Andrews or they are both close to uncovering it. Either way, they are both a liability, now.”

  “I understand. I’ll separate them,” he said. “I’ll take care of her first, Andrews after. I’ll need your help with a diversion.”

  “What do you need?”

  He told Kelsey what he needed.

  “Got it. Make it look good, Alt. We don’t want any of this blowing back in our face.”

  “Have I ever let you down?” Alt asked.

  “Good night.”

  Chapter 11

  The following morning, Julie Love woke first. She grabbed her cell and looked at the display. It was six-fifteen. Her neck was stiff from sleeping on the couch.

  She pulled off the spare blanket And
rews retrieved from the closet and ambled into the bathroom, picking up her clothes along the way. She wore only a sheer white tank top and red panties. She thought about wrapping the blanket around herself before walking to the bathroom, but Andrews looked asleep.

  She sat on the toilet and relieved herself. She yawned. She was awake for two more hours after the lights went out. She thought about what her next steps might be; about how she might help Andrews; but mostly, she thought about seeing Andrews naked and the feelings it stirred within her.

  From the first moment she laid eyes on him, she’d been attracted to him. That wasn’t exactly new. She’d been attracted to men she was investigating in the past. She was always attracted to large, strong men, but she was fully capable of separating the church and state when it came to scumbags. Andrews, however, was different. The emotions felt different. She’d been attracted to and slept with hot guys in the past but none had been her intellectual equal . . . until now.

  Andrews was a good man, and hot as hell. She wondered if he had any of the same feelings toward her. She saw the look on his face when she lifted her shirt. Her shapely, ample bosom was one of her best features, and she knew it. And she saw how Andrews’ jaw almost hit the floor when he saw her nude from the waist up, but she couldn’t tell if it was just a typical male reaction to nice tits, or if it was something more.

  She turned on the shower and stepped inside. She lathered herself up and thought about Andrews as her own soapy hands roamed over her breasts, down her stomach and below.

  She borrowed Andrews’ toothpaste from the countertop and brushed her teeth with her finger. She’d kept most of the water away from her hair, but used the blow dryer and her fingers to put her hair in some semblance of order. She dressed and stepped out of the bathroom. Andrews was dressed himself, and sitting at the mini-desk in the room with his laptop open, filling out a report. Damn, he was handsome, she thought.

  “I ordered breakfast,” he said.

  “I can’t stay,” she replied. “I have an eight-thirty flight. I have to fly to Montana.”

  “Montana?”

  “Yep. I’m scheduled to interview Agent Carlisle about you. If I don’t interview her, Rice and Kelsey will know something is up. I’m not ready to send up that flag.”

  “So, about our conversation last night?” he began. “Where do we go from here?”

  “We have to find Rainhorse,” she said. “He is the only one we know who can tell us about Wounded Falcon. Wounded Falcon is the key, Jim, I know it.”

  He smiled.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  “You called me ‘Jim.’ Nice red panties by the way.”

  “I thought you were asleep. You peeked?”

  “I may or may not have peeked just a little.”

  She smiled back, blushing just a little, “Eye on the ball, Mister. How do we find Rainhorse?”

  “The man survived as an assassin for twenty-years,” Andrews said. “He was never caught. The only reason he was in prison is because he turned himself in. Lindsay lives in Montana. That’s where he’ll show when he’s ready. He’ll appear in his own time.”

  “You may not have time,” she said. “I have to find him, for your sake as well as mine.”

  “You can look. Others have. I have. No one has come close.”

  “I almost forgot,” Love said, reaching into her leather case. She pulled out a burner phone and handed it to Andrews. “I have one, too. This phone has my burner number in it. Anytime you wish to speak to me, use this.”

  “You think they’re monitoring my calls?” he asked.

  “And mine as well. I have to go. Stay in touch.”

  She walked to the door and opened it.

  “Julie,” Andrews called out.

  Love turned back toward him, “What?”

  He walked over to her and leaned in. For a second, she thought he was going to kiss her. He was close enough for her to smell the fragrance of the soap he used the night before. He paused, however.

  “This is for real, right?” he asked. “You aren’t fucking with me?”

  She knew why he asked. If she were in his position, she’d be skeptical as well. She wanted to reassure him.

  “This is for real, I swear. I showed you my tits last night to prove I wasn’t wearing a wire.”

  He offered a mischievous grin, “How do I know you didn’t have the wire in your purse? For all I know you could have put on your wire in the bathroom this morning.”

  “Do I need to show my boobs to you again to prove a point?”

  “No. I believe you.”

  “You believe me, huh?”

  “I do. You seem trustworthy to me. That . . . and I checked your purse for recording devices while you were in the bathroom.”

  He chuckled. She chuckled, too.

  He leaned in again; his face now no more than three inches from hers, “The next time you show me your tits, I want it to be because you want me to see them, not because you’re trying to prove something.”

  She shrugged, “What makes you think I don’t want you to see them . . . now?”

  She saw a tiny smile appear on the corner of his face, “Because we both need to keep our eye on the ball.”

  “Good point, as long as we discuss this matter later.”

  “Oh, trust me,” he said. “We will discuss it later, and in great detail.”

  She smiled and allowed her eye contact to linger for a moment. Then she left.

  Chapter 12

  Agent Julie Love was ten minutes from the airport when her cell rang. She looked at the display. It was James Kelsey. Oh, damn, she thought.

  “Agent Love,” she answered.

  “Love, Kelsey here.”

  “What can I do for you this morning?” she asked.

  “You’re in Houston?” he asked.

  Love froze. Kelsey knew she was in Houston. Don’t panic, she thought. Kelsey didn’t seem alarmed she was there. He made the comment in passing. She was an investigator. Andrews was in Houston. She just needed to have a plausible reason to be there.

  “Yes. I . . . uh, am following up on a lead about Andrews. I found out he was in Houston. I need to interview him. I just got in last night.”

  She wondered if he was going to grill her about why she was not in Montana like he thought she’d be . . . but he didn’t.

  “What’s the lead?” he replied. His tone was business as usual.

  “I’m almost at his position now,” Love lied. “Can I tell you all about it later?”

  “Forget that for now,” Kelsey said. “I’m glad you’re in Houston. We have a break in the case against Andrews.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, an informant recognized Andrews in Houston. He called me this morning. I was going to fly him in but since you are already in Houston, I want you to meet him and see what he’s got.”

  “Sure. What kind of information does he have?” Love asked.

  “He says he knows the identity of Rainhorse’s accomplice,” Kelsey responded.

  “Your informant in Houston, Texas, knows the identify of Rainhorse’s accomplice? In Montana?” Love replied. “It doesn’t seem likely.”

  “He’s a high-profile informant,” Kelsey insisted. “He’s well-connected throughout the Midwest.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I’ll give you the address,” he said. “It’s an abandoned building outside of Houston.”

  “I prefer to meet an informant for the first time in a public place.”

  “He’s at the address I’m texting you now,” Kelsey said. “This is our first break, Agent Love.”

  “But why there?”

  “As I said, the informant is high-profile. He goes by the code name, Blackshear. He doesn’t want to be recognized talking with an FBI agent. I’ll text you the address. Head there right away. He’s waiting.”

  “You’re sure this guy’s legit? I mean, I’m not walking into anything, am I?”

  “The informant
has been working with me for years, Love. He’s trustworthy. Now move. I don’t want him getting nervous and backing out.”

  The situation made Love uncomfortable, but thus far, she knew of no reason Kelsey might suspect she was now supporting Andrews.

  “Okay, sir. I’m on it.”

  Chapter 13

  When Julie Love arrived at the warehouse, her internal radar went off. Something wasn’t right. She shook off her feelings of uncertainly and parked next to the only other vehicle in the parking lot. It was a black Lincoln Town Car. Kelsey told her the informant was high-profile. The car certainly fit the description.

  The window of the Town Car rolled down. The driver was a fifty-ish year-old man wearing a black chauffer’s cap.

  “Agent Julie Love?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Mr. Blackshear is waiting for you inside.”

  The window rolled back up.

  Love glanced at the building and the grounds around it. It seemed to be the center structure for an abandoned fairgrounds campus. She pulled her service weapon from its holster, checked the clip, chambered a round, and removed the safety, just in case. A girl can’t be too safe, she thought to herself. She re-holstered the weapon, leaving the holster guard unstrapped for easy access.

  She walked to the door, opened it and entered. The place looked as though it had been abandoned for years. It didn’t take long for her to see who she was looking for. Sitting on a stool, about twenty-feet away, was a lone man, smoking a cigarette.

  Love approached him cautiously. The man was no more than five-foot-seven and a hundred and forty pounds, soaking wet. She glanced about the large, abandoned, auditorium sized room. There was no sign of anyone else.

  The small man smiled and waved her toward him, “You must be Agent Julie Love.”

  “And you must be Blackshear,” she responded.

  “I love that codename,” he said. “It sounds badass, doesn’t it?’

  Love continued to approach him.