Crossfire

by TL Schaefer

  FRED KNEW HE WAS BEING shadowed. Asa smiled grimly. The asshole had been minding his manners all day. He was still conducting business at the diner, still reeling in a rancher or two, but word about their altercation yesterday must have made it into Tin Cup’s gossip mill. Which had been the intent.

  Asa chilled in his Jeep, waiting. Watching. He understood Cam’s reservations about resorting to physical violence, but that wouldn’t stop him from ensuring Maxwell didn’t hurt anyone.

  He was going on instinct here, and it felt good.

  Maxwell had the potential to do something worse than bilk ranchers out of their money. What he might do wasn’t a tragedy, at least not yet, but it would suck, nonetheless.

  Asa wasn’t willing to give him the chance, especially if his worst fears of sexual compulsion were correct. It was rape, and of all the crimes in the world, he could stomach that one the least. Even the thought had the potential to send him into a rage it was hard to come back from.

  For the first time since he’d gone on this little walkabout he was working without a net, by his choice. And for the first time, he wondered if maybe his vision about partnering with Cam had been him inserting himself into his own vision. Had he wanted to be part of something so much that he’d wished it upon himself? What if it hadn’t been Cam he’d been sent to save, but Pedersen?

  All the second guessing and what ifs didn’t matter. Not right now. He knew one thing for sure. He’d take care of Maxwell one way or the other.

  Then he’d figure out where they, if there even was a “they,” went from here.

  MAXWELL COULD FEEL the bastard’s gaze on him and wondered for the hundredth time who the bozo was. Not many people could resist his compulsion, but the guy had sat there as if he hadn’t a worry in the world, and then had the balls to threaten him. Hah. He could buy and sell that little punk and the reporter with him as well. He was bulletproof, and had been for two decades.

  He’d recognized Cam Ryder as soon as word got out she was in town. She looked different than she had on TV, but maybe because no one was shooting at her. Yet. If Dobbs didn’t lay off, Fred couldn’t guarantee anything.

  After all, even if he couldn’t bend Dobbs to his will, everyone else in town was still fair game. He could easily convince the Sheriff that they’d both been killed in a hunting accident.

  Yeah, that might be just the ticket.

  This was his chance to grab the golden ring, to show the talented clique in Denver he was just as good as they were, could be part of their ranks. Could put them, the Talented, back on top of the food chain, rather than hiding in caves from the government. And if he had to, he’d buy the whole damned town of Tin Cup to do it. And if there were a few casualties along his path to success, wasn’t that to be expected?

  He looked out the window at the blue Jeep again, and smiled just a little, then hailed Susie for another cup of coffee and a piece of pie.

  ASA FINALLY GAVE IN and sent a secure e-mail to Heath. He’d tried to formulate a plan, tried to think like Heath would, but in the end he was a simple grunt. Guys like Heath were the strategic thinkers, they had the answers.

  He outlined everything he’d discovered to date, but left out Cam’s involvement. Until he was more certain, she’d stay his anonymous friend.

  As much as he wanted to think of his gift as fated, it was much more logical that he saw tragedy when it was about to unfold around him, not because he’d been directed to a location to do just that.

  In his time downrange it’d been different. They’d been in life-or-death situations daily, where one sideways decision could and had led to tragedy.

  Now, in the civilian world, he just wasn’t sure. His time stateside had diluted his interpretation of his talent. Made him question almost every decision he made.

  There was no way he was going to involve Cam in Global Dynamics’ subterfuge, in the cloak-and-dagger. She’d retired from all that stuff, had found herself.

  He’d convinced himself that they needed to be partners, but what if she’d only needed him to save her so she could go on to bigger and better things? What if his whole “partnership” vison and understanding of it had been nothing more than wishful thinking?

  His lack of being able to formulate a plan had highlighted that he wasn’t much of a partner, especially one who knew far more than she did about the undercurrents of the NSA, the Talented, and those who used them.

  He’d never been a wishy-washy guy, and right now he was teetering from one extreme to the other so often his head swam.

  It made him wonder if he had a purpose in life beyond being Farrell’s dowsing rod for trouble.

  Right now he was coming to the conclusion he didn’t. It was a sobering realization. One he didn’t particularly care for, but was willing to accept, grudgingly.

  Yeah, he’d let Heath come in and take care of Maxwell and then go back to Maryland like a good soldier and leave Cam to her life.

  CAM GROANED AT THE knock on her door. She was almost done with the piece, just needed another half hour in peace and quiet to finish the edits.

  She threw the door open, expecting Asa.

  But it wasn’t Asa, it was Susie. The waitress held a plate in her hand, a hopeful smile on her face. “I thought you’d like a snack.” She held out the foil-covered plate. “Cherry pie.”

  Who could resist that? Cam stepped down out of Betsy, a smile on her own face. The girl’s hero-worship was going to make Cam fat.

  She barely had time to feel the change in air pressure as someone moved behind her, didn’t have time to make a sound or move a muscle before a voice crooned in her ear. “Come along Cam, and I’ll let Susie go once we arrive at our destination.”

  She turned her head enough to see Maxwell’s face. He nudged her arm and she began walking, away from Betsy and toward the SUV parked on the other side of her camper.

  Her mind hummed with white noise as she climbed into the back seat of the truck. Susie settled in next to her, both of them docile, awaiting further instruction.

  He climbed into the driver’s seat and looked over his shoulder, his face curled in a snarl. “I’ll teach you to fuck with my business. With my future. Now sit there like good little girls and we’ll take care of Mr. Dobbs once and for all.”

  ASA KNOCKED ON BETSY’S door a second time. Where the hell was Cam? He’d popped into the general store for some supplies and to generally get off his ass.

  When he’d left the diner’s parking lot, Maxwell was still settled into his booth. Asa found it amusing no one went near the man now, and Asa suspected most of the townfolk were avoiding the diner after Maxwell’s nine a.m. arrival time. Which sucked for the diner owner and Susie, and made Asa even more determined to deep-six the man.

  He knew Heath had done something similar lately. Oh, he didn’t know the details, but word had gotten around after the debacle in Canon City that there’d been a set of in-the-wild Talented who’d almost ended Heath and the folks who were standing the Colorado Academy for Superior Intellect back up. One of them was dead, and the other had, as Cam alluded, simply disappeared.

  It galled him to ask for help. During his pararescue days, he’d been part of a cadre, guys who covered your back. They worked in such concert that you never had to ask. Your bros had your six, and that’s all there was to it.

  After he’d left the Air Force and gone to work for the NSA, then Heath, it was different. Yeah, they were a crew, but not the kind that you trusted with your life. Not even Heath, as much as Asa respected him.

  Today he was part of a team of two, no matter how much or how deeply he dissected the why of it. And right now, one half of the pair was MIA. Which was just freakin’ wrong.

  He settled his hands on his hips and turned in a wide circle. Cam’s Harley was still loaded and strapped on the hydraulic lift, so she hadn’t gone anywhere on wheels. Huh.

  He tried Betsy’s side door, shocked when the handle turned easily under his hand. Cam never left the motorhome unlocked.
Her equipment was too expensive and besides, she was just plain smart.

  He stepped in and did a quick recon to ensure she hadn’t fallen or passed out, but the RV was quiet. What the hell? It’s not as if she’d gone for a stroll or something, she wouldn’t have left Betsy unlocked. This whole scenario was definitely raising the hair on the back of his neck.

  But there were no visions, and he hoped like hell there wouldn’t be.

  He checked his cell—no texts or voice messages—then blew out a breath. Yeah, something was definitely wrong.

  As he stepped out of the RV, he trod lightly, his eyes on the ground now, where before he’d been almost oblivious. This was the civilian world, for God’s sake. He shouldn’t have to look for evidence.

  The civilian world was for shit, he thought, as he scanned the fine soil. There, two paces from the door, was a set of footprints. The design on the sole was wavy, like a running shoe, definitely not Cam’s hand-tooled cowboy boots. He skirted around the footprints, tracking them back to the road where a vehicle had possibly waited, since that’s where the footprints began. This was how the running shoe wearer had approached Cam.

  He stood on the pavement, gaze cataloging the ground. Three feet to the west were the tracks from the RV to the pavement. A second pair of flat-soled shoes, one pointy toed and likely Cam’s, the other much larger, probably a man’s dress shoe. To the right was the running shoe again.

  He blew out a breath as he looked at the proof before him. One set of tracks going in. The wavy-soled running shoes.

  A lure. Someone Cam trusted, or at least wouldn’t greet at the door with the barrel her LadySmith snubnose. The thirty-eight packed a punch, especially when you knew how to use it, and Cam certainly did.

  Cam answers the door, steps out, and designer-shoe wearer slides in behind her, says something to move her toward the roadway, where a vehicle was waiting.

  Yeah. He could easily see it.

  It took him all of fifteen seconds to catalog what he visualized, and he didn’t like it one little bit.

  He was also pretty damned sure he knew who the large shoeprint belonged to, considering he hadn’t seen one other man in town wear shoes that fancy. It was a supposition, but a valid one, considering how much he’d been poking at the man.

  Asa took a deep breath and closed his eyes, willing his talent to be of use in the here and now, when he truly needed it. But all he got was a lungful of clean air.

  Fuck it. His partner was in trouble, he could feel it in his bones. He was a trained warrior medic. He’d find her without his damned talent, and end Maxwell while he was at it. Squaring his shoulders, he climbed into the Jeep.

  He’d go where this had all started.

  He pulled in front of the diner, meeting a frantic Aaron Rodgers at the door. Without the man saying a word he knew that his daughter Susie had been taken as well. Or had both of the women been compelled? He’d bet his bottom dollar that was the case, and that Susie had been wearing the wavy-soled running shoes.

  He took precious minutes calming the mayor down, then asked the man where Maxwell was staying.

  The bed and breakfast a few doors down was small, quaint, and the asshole in question wasn’t here. The owner was happy to provide Asa and Mayor Rogers with what Maxwell drove though, a newer-model gold four-dour SUV with Oregon plates.

  That should make him relatively easy to find, providing he’d stayed in town, which Asa doubted. Maxwell hadn’t survived this long without being pretty cagey.

  His phone buzzed as they were leaving the B&B. Heath Farrell.

  “I have to take this,” he told the mayor, and moved off to the side of the B&B, where he could speak in relative privacy.

  “Sounds like your sabbatical has been interesting, Asa,” Heath said, his voice pleasant, as if they were discussing the San Diego weather.

  “You could say that,” Asa replied, “and it just got worse. He took the woman I was traveling with and the mayor’s daughter.” Farrell could infer what he wanted about Asa’s travel partner. For now it was all he was willing to say.

  After he got Cam out of this, he’d disappear into the bowels of Global Dynamics, and she’d be back to doing her thing, with this nothing more than an interesting interlude. It had to work out that way. Had to. It didn’t matter that Cam knew about the Talented now. She was a Pulitzer winner who’d shown her trustworthiness on more than one occasion downrange, when it counted. He wouldn’t trust the knowledge with anyone else.

  “Did anyone see them?” Farrell asked.

  “Not that we can find. Just ID’d his vehicle through the place he was staying. I’m going to split from the mayor. He can involve the locals and do an in-town search, but my gut says Maxwell’s headed for the hills. No idea why he took them, unless it’s because I was being obnoxious.”

  Heath huffed out a dry laugh. “I can’t imagine that at all.” Then his voice became serious. “If I’m going to assist, I need to know her name, Asa.”

  Asa hesitated, then went with his gut. “I’ll find them on my own. She deserves her privacy, Farrell. When I find them I’ll need you to take care of Maxwell.”

  Farrell sighed, and it was a heavy thing, almost disappointed. “Fine. I’m sending Jonah Summers your way. You might remember he’s the headmaster at CASI.”

  Yeah, Asa remembered him all right. Summers could compel you with a touch, exactly what they needed to contain a man like Maxwell.

  “He should be there in about three and a half hours. Where should I tell him to go?”

  “The Tin Cup Diner,” Asa said. “The mayor will be setting the searches up from there. Have Summers call me when he gets into town.” Asa disconnected before Farrell could say anything else. But he did make one very large concession—he enabled the locator app each of the GD employees were required to utilize when they were on duty. As soon as he’d enlisted Farrell’s aid, he’d gone back on duty. And h

  He wasn’t dumb enough to imagine Maxwell might not get the drop on him. Unlikely, but possible. In that case, he wanted every man Farrell was willing to deploy to know where he was.

  HE SPENT THE NEXT HALF hour with the Sheriff, mostly asking where a city boy would go to hole up. Then he asked where Susie would go if she wanted to be alone.

  The Sheriff looked at him with murder in his eyes until Asa explained. “I’m not suggesting Susie has anything to do with this. Maxwell is a professional manipulator, Sheriff, but he’s not dumb. She knows the area, knows good places to go to ground. I can easily see him threatening Cam if Susie doesn’t take them to a safe place.” He wasn’t lying, exactly. Maxwell wouldn’t even have to threaten Cam. He’d just compel Susie to tell her of her most favorite place to lie low. “We need to ask some of her girlfriends. It’ll likely be someplace her dad doesn’t know about.”

  Asa remembered how he was before he’d joined the Air Force. How he’d needed a place that was his alone, and only his best friend Carlton had known where it was. Dollars to donuts Susie was the same way.

  Fifteen minutes later Asa and the Sheriff were on the road, heading for Almont. Asa had tried to shake off the Sheriff, but the man was a bulldog, and apparently he thought Asa’s idea had teeth.

  Almont was apparently close to being a ghost town, mostly geared toward tourists, but with multiple old cabins on the outskirts abandoned but still semi-habitable. Only a few miles away from Tin Cup, it would be a perfect hiding place for a young woman who wanted to get away, but not too far away.

  Now they just had to find the right cabin, and pray Asa’s hunch had been correct.

  Chapter Five

  Maxwell’s heart thundered in his chest. This was not how he did business.

  He’d thought it’d be easy. Buy up a chunk of land in a no-name town, gift it to the Talented gathering in Denver. He knew all about them, had made it his mission to find people like him. People who had no qualms in using their power to gain the upper hand.

  He’d never imagined his plan could go this awry. That
he’d likely have to physically hurt someone. Maybe even kill them. His mouth went drier than a desert.

  He looked at the two women bound to rickety old kitchen chairs. Cam Ryder stared back at him with borderline disdain, as if he was an ant ready to be crushed beneath her boot. Susie looked almost blank, as if she wasn’t in the room with them, something he was much more comfortable with. But his gaze kept switching nervously back to Cam, to make sure she was still bound, even as he could see his compulsion wearing off.

  He mentally pushed again to take her back under, felt her shove back, and almost staggered. A thin dribble of blood leaked from his nose.

  No! He hadn’t bled in over a decade, when he’d learned control, when he’d been shown his destiny. No fucking reporter was going to take that away from him.

  He straightened his shoulders and took two long steps to Cam, then backhanded her. “Learn some respect, bitch.”

  She snarled, there was no other way to describe it. “Stop trying to scare me, asshole.” He shifted back seconds before her booted foot would have connected with his balls. He hit her again, this time on the other side, drawing blood.

  His breath was coming hard and heavy now, and he felt something he hadn’t in years, at least not associated with a woman. A bit of fear. And from that fear, an arousal so acute he almost doubled over.

  He stared hard at her, hatred flashing before triumph filled him. He’d known women like her before. Women who thought he was beneath them, that he wasn’t good enough to even be in the same room. He also knew how to bring them down to size.

  He stepped to Susie and ran a finger down her cheekbone, then looked over his shoulder at Cam. “How long do you think I can fuck her before my compulsion breaks? It’s been awhile since I’ve had to use it. My money mostly talks now.” He grinned as Cam thrashed at her bonds. “Yeah, I know how to break you, Cam Ryder. And I’ll do it without laying another finger on you.”