Counter Strike

by Beth Rhodes

  He had a chance to bring her over to his side, but he needed more time.

  She remembered…but now, her Jamie was there to protect her, to convince her to run to safety—again.

  His phone rang. “What do you know?” he asked.

  “Martinez has two men out at the Fuentes house.” The voice on the phone spoke.

  “He’ll be on their trail. And we need to get to Marguerite.”

  The man hesitated. “The area she is going through is mountainous…and dangerous. There is illegal logging along the west slope trails there. They don’t like interference, and they don’t leave witnesses.”

  “Who is it this time?” Antonio tracked the rebel groups, and any other groups who opposed Martinez, but the logging industry had exploded in the last five years, and several upstart rebel groups fought for control of the wilderness west of Veracruz.

  “We’re not sure yet. Could be Martinez. One of our contacts started seeing trucks coming and going in the early hours of the morning about two weeks ago.”

  “Too far west for Martinez. Besides, he’s up to his ears in coca plantations.” Antonio believed it was time to move away from the drug industry. He’d whispered the same into Martinez’s ear.

  “I wouldn’t discount Martinez, sir. With his utilization of the port city, maybe he’s dipping into the lumber market. Lots of wood for the taking…when no one is looking, I mean.”

  Antonio scratched at his chin. “Has no one reported the logging?” Usually there was an environmentalist group willing to raise a stink.

  “No one dares.”

  The Martinez element again. Antonio sighed. “Put in a word to the local officials. Anonymously. Then find Marguerite.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Antonio—”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t hurt the girl,” Antonio said.

  Looking around the courtyard where his conversation had taken him, he suddenly had a very bad feeling that things were going to blow up in his face. And for the first time, he had to wonder how things would be if he were in charge instead of a mad man.

  ***

  The building in front of them had seen some changes over the years.

  Jamie held them back, waiting patiently for any movement or sign of Martinez’s men.

  Missy pulled her camera out. She’d been doing that off and on throughout the trek. She focused in on the small church and rectory in front of them.

  It was painted white, when before the brick and stucco had been a burnt red and brown—harder to see in the darkness. Now the moon set the place aglow, leaving nothing to shadows.

  Missy’s arm was shaking when she tucked her camera back into her bag.

  He took her load.

  “You don’t—”

  “I got it.” When he was certain the way was clear, he stepped out of the safe zone. He might have remained there longer, but she was starting to struggle. The road offered relief in its flat surface. The rain was still coming down but at a slow, steady pace.

  The yard was soft from the rain. Missy stumbled, and without a word, he set an arm under her knees and one behind her back and lifted her. She automatically drew closer, and long, slow breaths warmed the skin at his pulse.

  “I might fall asleep.”

  “Go ahead, babe.”

  Ah, he’d missed her. He always did when he was away. When he saw the other men on the team, the ones who worked with their wives or girlfriends, he envied them. But then he’d come home to Missy and find his peace. He didn’t want her to be part of that world, part of the violence. She was where he went to get away from it. She was the light to his dark. And now she’d been dragged into his world. No, dragged back into the world she’d left. The violence had been her heritage.

  The door to the rectory opened as he approached.

  “Come in,” Padre Franco said quietly as if he’d been expecting them.

  “Thank you,” Jamie shifted her weight.

  “This way.” Padre Franco waved him down the hall. He opened a door to a small bedroom. It had a single bed, a rocking chair, and a small dresser. He couldn’t have known they were coming. But he was always ready for anything…

  His mission, even twelve years ago.

  To comfort those in need.

  Padre Franco pulled back the blanket and fluffed the pillow. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” he whispered before he left. To give them privacy, Jamie imagined, single bed notwithstanding, he’d take the privacy.

  Missy barely moved when he laid her across the bed. He brushed the hair off her face and crouched next to her. He helped her out of her wet shirt and wet shorts.

  A knock sounded at the door and Padre Franco opened it. “Towels,” he said when Jamie rose.

  “Thank you.” Jamie took the towels. The door closed.

  He wrapped her shoulders in one, laid her down against the pillow, then patted her dry.

  He didn’t know how long they had. Martinez was too smart to be far behind. He’d clue in eventually, or Antonio would give them up.

  He’d stay in here with her tonight. She’d mentioned the nightmares, and he didn’t want her to wake up to a sick stomach and not know where to go.

  He placed a kiss at her temple and then gently on the bruising of her split lip. The would was looking better. He lifted the blanket over her shoulders. “Be right back,” he whispered.

  As he made his way to the kitchen, Jamie noted each door, ones that were open and others that were closed. Not much had changed since his last visit. Padre Franco refused to have the house wired for communication…no internet, no satellite.

  “Can I use your phone, Padre?”

  “Of course,” the small older man nodded and waved him out of the kitchen and up the hall to the office, just inside the front door.

  He dialed Tan’s number, who answered on the first ring. “Jamie? Where are you?”

  “We made it to Franco’s. Is everyone okay there?”

  “Fuentes showed up after you left. He’s caught between a rock and a hard place. You can’t trust him. Tell us what you need. Is Missy ready to get back to Belize?”

  Rubbing a hand over his mouth, he let the nerves do their job in his stomach. Missy’s life was in his hands. “Missy and I are taking a diversion. We’re going to look for those photos.”

  Tan’s silence filled him with doubt.

  He wanted to protect her. That had been his purpose in life. Only, he had a strong feeling this was different…for her. She had a soft spot for the underdog. And he’d watched her look at that camera for years, but never touch it. Sometimes, he’d find her fiddling with it. She scoured newspapers and online articles, complaining when they were written without skill…or too one-sided.

  Leaving behind her life as a journalism student hadn’t been her choice.

  Now, she had a choice.

  And he wanted to refuse her. “It’s her turn, sir.”

  “What do you need from us?” Tan asked again.

  Jamie sighed in relief. “Give me some time. We’re regrouping here, and I’ll know more soon—hopefully.”

  Making his way back to the kitchen, he put his head back in the game. He might not like leading, but he could do anything if it meant helping Missy or saving her life.

  “Long time no see.” Padre Franco grinned and took a sip from his mug of coffee.

  He handed over an empty mug, and Jamie immediately went to the carafe on the counter and filled it. He took a big, hot gulp and slowly closed his eyes. “Thank you, Jesus.”

  “Can’t say it’s good to see you, though.”

  “Ha. Good to see you too.” Jamie breathed, no tension in his chest for the first time in two hours.

  Padre Franco studied him.

  Jamie squirmed under the scrutiny.

  “It’s been quiet around here,” the man started, and it felt like this might be the ‘but’ or the why-did-you-come-back part of their conversation.

  Already. He’d hoped for a couple hours.

>   “Haven’t had any trouble.”

  Jamie cleared his throat. “We can be out of your hair—”

  “That’s not what I mean. You are welcome to stay.” Padre set his mug down. “The people out this far have been hit hard by Martinez’s leadership. They are scared and tired…” He lifted a finger. “But they are also driven…ready to fight.”

  “Any time people fight Martinez—”

  “People died,” Missy said strongly from behind him.

  Jamie turned to face her. “Hey,” he said, going to her and putting an arm around her shoulders. “You should be sleeping.”

  She shrugged and turned her attention to the priest. “You work with the—”

  She stopped.

  “You can speak freely here. Yes, I work with the people who want freedom for their families.”

  Missy blinked, but it was that slow blink Jamie knew. Her wheels were turning, and she was thinking.

  “I want to help you.”

  Padre Franco looked from her to Jamie. “By doing what?”

  Her glance his way felled his heart.

  “My uncle is looking for photos I took. Evidence of Martinez killing the political candidate twelve years ago.”

  Padre’s eyes widened.

  “If we get that evidence into the right hands and I can testify…”

  Jamie groaned. “Testify?”

  She shrugged, apologetic but no less determined. “I can help these people. You know I can. With my family’s history. My eyewitness. Everything I went through, Jamie. It’s always been leading to this. Having you in my life right now is my protection. You’re the reason I can do this and not die.”

  She was killing him. Lord, have mercy…

  If she died—and lots of people had died over the years, trying to stand up to Martinez—he didn’t know what he would do.

  Missy leaned on the island counter. “We can’t find the photos. Has my grandmother ever mentioned them?”

  Franco shook his head.

  “Maybe she gave you something keep safe? An envelope? A box of legal papers?”

  Like a bulb turning on, Padre lifted a finger. “Wait.” He hurried from the room.

  Missy glanced over and moved, as if sensing his distress. He didn’t realize how tightly wound with tension he’d become until she touched him.

  “This is such a bad idea, babe.”

  “I know. But together…”

  He groaned. “You have too much faith in my ability to keep you safe.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Padre Franco returned with an envelope he set on the counter before them. Missy’s hand shook as she took it. She slipped her finger under the flap and looked inside, then pulled a sheaf of papers out.

  Jamie looked over her shoulder as she browsed the contents. But her disappointment was palpable. No photos.

  “Nothing but her will.”

  “I’m sorry. I wish there was more—believe me. It would be the leverage the Patriot Union needs right now.”

  Jamie continued to flip through the papers, scanning the details.

  “Has she said anything to you? Anything at all about that time?”

  “Her visits are infrequent now. It is more often that I stop in to see her.”

  “Here’s something,” Jamie said, pointing to a section on the page. “Property. Did you know she still owns property in Veracruz?”

  She took the paper and scanned for what he was talking about. The color drained from her face. “This is…Jeez, my dad’s house.”

  “The one that burnt to the ground?”

  “It wasn’t a complete loss, actually,” Padre Franco confirmed. “She had some work done on it about five years ago, and she listed it on the market for one of those vacation spots.”

  Missy gave a laugh, which she cut off as her face went pale. She took a breath, and he had to wonder if her stomach was still bothering her.

  “Like Airbnb? My grandmother…?” Her eyes filled with hope when she looked at him. He was completely screwed now. And on his way to Veracruz, because why not? It was closer to Martinez, closer to danger.

  “If you’re going that way,” Padre started.

  Jamie gave the man a look, which the man ignored.

  “The group I work with has been gaining traction. They’ve gained interest and trust within the state ranks. Martinez made a few mistakes over the last year as he raised his campaigning flag. He’s pompous, and people don’t like that. He’s not a team player, and despite the competition of the election, there should be an element of patriotism that unites the officials. His interests are selfish, and people notice but are afraid to say anything.” The man hesitated again. “There’s a meeting,” he started.

  Damn that meeting. Jamie groaned.

  “I’ll be there,” she answered.

  Jamie rolled his eyes. He was watching his world go out of control. All the precautions, all his safety nets, didn’t matter anymore.

  It’s her turn, sir. He’d said the words to Tan, still believing that he’d be able to control the outcome, control what happened next.

  Now he wasn’t so sure.

  Chapter Twenty

  From Kiana’s spot in the kitchen doorway, the line of trees out the window over the sink remained dark. Bobby had gone out but found nothing.

  She’d seen something…she thought. God, what if she hadn’t seen anything? She could be losing her mind. Or, maybe it was the knock to the head…

  “You okay?” Bobby asked, again.

  “I’m fine. Geez.” She scowled, but more at herself, and immediately felt badly. “Sorry. I’m just wound up.”

  Bobby ignored her and spoke to Tan. “Have Marie and Malcolm checked in?”

  “Not yet.”

  A knock on the back door caught Kiana’s breath in her throat. Nina moved as if to answer, but Bobby put up a hand and shook his head. He whispered, “Stay here.”

  Bobby brushed by Kiana into the kitchen.

  Kiana pulled her gun and stood off to the side. He might think he didn’t need back-up. She didn’t work that way.

  The lights were off in the kitchen and outside, but her eyes quickly adjusted to the dark. He waited a moment before he opened the door, reached out, dragged a body in, and closed the door—one swift movement. The guy didn’t fight. He dropped to the floor at Bobby’s maneuvering and lay flat on his belly, arms restrained at his back.

  “Who are you?”

  The man spoke, “I work for Güero.”

  Bobby looked up at Kiana, which was freaky. She would have said he didn’t even know she was there, as if she would have stayed back like he suggested. “It means paleface,” she answered and then had an a-ha moment. “Antonio. His scarring…”

  Bobby gave a nod of understanding as his ridiculously strong arms lifted the man from the floor and set him on a chair. “Talk.”

  “I have a message. Martinez has sent men this way. You must leave and hide.”

  “He already sent men—Antonio.”

  “Martinez doesn’t trust him. Güero—Antonio has sent me to tell you. Martinez will return. He wants the woman.”

  “Tell us something we don’t know,” Bobby said.

  The man’s gaze nervously shifted from Bobby to the gun in Kiana’s hand, and then beyond her. Behind her, Tan and Nina stood, waiting.

  “The old one.”

  “How far out are they?” Tan asked.

  “Maybe twenty minutes. You must let me go. I can divert them, maybe give you a few extra minutes, but you must leave.”

  “Or we could just shoot any of you as you arrive and be done with your meddling.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “Please, don’t.”

  “Let him go.” Tan answered.

  Bobby scowled, but let the man go. Kiana had to admit, she was a little disappointed as well. It wasn’t as if Antonio was the good guy.

  “Now you can give Antonio a message for us.”

  “Of course.”

  “We
’re coming for him,” Tan said. Even Bobby looked up in shock. This wasn’t Hawk Elite protocol. They didn’t look for trouble, but hell if it didn’t find them plenty… just like it had in Colombia. “Tell him to get his affairs in order.”

  The man nodded and scrambled, leaving as quickly as he’d come.

  “Call Marie and Malcolm in. We’ll move to Tom’s tonight.”

  “What about Nina?” Kiana asked.

  Tan turned to the old woman. “She’ll come with us.”

  “No.” Nina shook her head adamantly. “I have not run in thirty years. I will not run now.”

  “Please,” Kiana said. “You must. For Missy.”

  The old woman went around them to her pantry. “I have food for you to take on the road. Hurry.”

  Tan still hesitated. Kiana liked that about him. He wasn’t all rules and regulations and standard operating procedure. He made decisions, both based on the safety of his team as well as on what he knew was right. Missy’s grandmother would be at risk here.

  “I can stay behind,” Kiana offered.

  “No, no, no,” Nina harshly objected. “You go. You will all go. If you are here, it will be worse. I have been on my own a long time. And I have faced Martinez in that time.”

  “She’s right. Our presence could put her in more danger.”

  “I’ll get the car ready.” Malcolm said.

  Kiana walked over to Missy’s grandmother and gave her a hug. “Be careful,” she whispered.

  Nina gave her an extra squeeze.

  Bobby had grabbed her bag and tossed it to her as he left through the back door.

  Kiana sent the old woman a small shrug and smile.

  Then she left without a word.

  ***

  Jamie stood outside the door to Missy’s room, reminded of that first visit with Padre Franco, all those years ago. Felt like ages.

  This time, they’d planned the next step together. The back and forth with Missy felt right, not just a little bit satisfying—a lot. When she’d finally called off for the night, he’d stayed up and talked with Padre about the Patriot Union, names he could trust and people or places to avoid.