by T. K. Lukas
“I’m a runner. I can identify.” An overwhelming sense that if she didn’t take off running at that very moment—running and not stopping for anything—she might be the one to go crazy.
“Rex got distracted. Something caught his attention and he took off. Otherwise, I’d have been back at the lodge by now, probably looking at my computer.”
“Sorry. I hope I didn’t get him in trouble.” Sidney called Rex over, giving both ears a good scratch.
“Nah—no worries. What can I help you with?” Markus looked on as his wolf-dog bonded with this complete stranger, and he shook his head, his expression registering disbelief.
“I’m needing a place to stay for the night, maybe longer, if it’s a good fit. My trailer has living quarters I can sleep in. I just need a place to park it and to put up a small portable pen.”
“I can do better than that. There’s plenty of room in the barn, stalls with run-in paddocks. You’re welcome to the caretaker’s apartment above the barn.”
“An apartment?”
“It hasn’t been used in months. It’s probably a little musty, but it’s nice. How long are you planning on staying?”
“I’m not planning on anything, yet, just pondering. I’ll take you up on the offer of the barn for Mocha, but I think I’d rather sleep in my trailer, for tonight anyway, while it’s still light and I can see what I’m doing.” Sidney took note of the orange and pink streaks melting across the western sky, while to the east, a few stars made a faint appearance.
“There is electricity. All the modern conveniences. Even indoor plumbing.” The boyish charm of his smile contrasted starkly against the sad intensity of his eyes, as if both features belonged to two separate people.
Sidney laugh nervously. “I’m sure it’d be fine. I just like to be settled before it gets dark.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll open the gate. After you pull through, I’ll hop in and ride with you, show you the way to the barn, if that’s okay.”
“Yes, sure. Come on, Rex. You ride shotgun.” She opened the door and the big dog jumped into the cab. He settled his haunches on the seat, his front legs on the floorboard.
“Don’t embarrass me, boy,” said Markus as he sprinted to unlock the gate.
After the truck and trailer cleared the entryway and the padlocks were secured, Markus slid into the rear passenger seat behind Rex, giving the dog a scratch and a pat. “The drive curves around that tree line to your right, then you’ll see the outdoor riding arena. Beyond that are the stables.”
“Okay.”
“So, you heart scuba diving? Your bumper sticker—I noticed it when you pulled through the gate.” With his index fingers, Markus drew in the air the shape of a heart.
“Oh,” she glanced in the rearview mirror. “Of course. Love it. My favorite hobby, besides horses.” Sidney’s flat voice sounded unconvincing.
“Really? I love scuba diving, too. Australia. Belize. Fiji. Dubrovnik, if you’re not dodging bullets. Where’s your favorite place to dive?”
“Oh—uh—Belize, for sure. Good water, there, in Belize.” Something about his way of questioning made Sidney uncomfortable, almost as uncomfortable as her memory of coming close to drowning in Belize.
“Yeah, the Blue Hole. Fantastic. That sucker’s one hundred forty-five or so meters deep. Challenging, but worth the effort. How deep are you rated?”
“Rated?”
“Yeah, how deep do you dive? Eighteen meters, thirty meters?”
She glanced again in the rearview mirror and caught Markus studying her. The feeling he was reading her, challenging and testing her, caused her breath to catch. Shifting her eyes straight ahead, she put on a casual air. “I’m a beginner—more into snorkeling than into scuba.”
“You hate it.”
“I—hate it.”
“So, why pretend? Why the “I heart scuba” sticker?” Markus’s voice was as smooth as a detective interrogating a serial killer.
“It’s a long story. I’d much rather ride than dive, anyway. So, how many horses do you have at your stables? And Ruth mentioned something about a hunting lodge, too?” Not too obvious with the smooth changing of the subject, she told herself. But one glance in the rearview mirror at his amused expression told her otherwise.
“There’re about ten or so locals who board their horses here. I have twenty of my own I use to pack clients out for overnight or weekend hunts. Off season, I lead mounted sightseeing and photography expeditions into the Davis Mountains.” He shifted his position in the back seat, allowing him to view Sidney’s face from both the rearview and side view mirrors.
“You keep your horses busy.” That he watched her from all angles was not lost on her. A studier of people knew when she was being studied. Her eyes met his in the mirror for a brief moment before she looked away, chilled by the hint of something dangerous in the intensity of his stare.
“Drive past the arena. The stables are just around the bend.”
“Okay.” On one side of the arena, Sidney noticed a ramped platform such as those used to allow a person in a wheelchair to be placed in a saddle. “Do you cater to disabled riders?”
“Sometimes.”
Sidney waited for more of an explanation. It was not forthcoming.
Markus nodded toward the rearview mirror. “Do you have a dog? Is that its collar hanging there?”
“I used to, once upon a time.” The black and red plaid collar reminded her of more than just the skin-and-bones yellow Labrador she’d found in Breckenridge, Colorado. It also served as a reminder, every time she looked in the rearview mirror and saw it dangling there, for her to watch her back.
“I’m so sorry.” He didn’t ask or say anything more. He could see the tears welling in Sidney’s eyes.
And she didn’t offer anything more.
Behind the tree line, the stables came into view. Situated in a “U” shaped footprint, the fieldstone and rough cedar plank building housed twenty stalls along each parallel arm. The front facing section contained tack and feed rooms, restrooms, a vet and wash rack, and an office. Adjacent to the office, the focal point was a seating area for guests to view the arena. An apartment on the second floor overlooked the indoor arena situated in the interior of the structure.
“Wow, this looks impressive. Mocha won’t know what to do, staying in a place this opulent.”
“Mocha’s been traveling in style. That’s a nice trailer you have.” Markus twisted around in the seat, looking out the back window at the trailer and strumming his fingers on the headrest. “Is it my imagination, or did I notice two horses in there when you pulled through the gate? Won’t you need two stalls?”
“No, just one. The ‘horse’ in the first stall is a fake, you know, like the full-sized plastic replicas tack stores use to display saddles and blankets. It’s a long story.” She waved her hand in casual dismissal. “Is it okay if I park there?” Sidney pointed to the opposite side of the barn where several empty trailers were lined in a neat row.
“Either side’s fine,” he said, letting slide her quick dismissal about the fake horse and her second awkward segue into a change of subject. “There’re monitored cameras all around—you should feel safe. I’ve never had any mischief or theft out here, but I won’t take any chances.”
Sidney backed the truck and trailer into place and unloaded her horse while Markus grabbed two buckets and a bag of sweet oats she had indicated were in the trailer’s storage compartment. He led them into the barn, taking them to the first empty stall on the west wing.
“This corner stall has the largest turn-out paddock, which looks like your girl will appreciate. That’s one tall mare. Is she a Thoroughbred?”
“She’s a Thoroughbred, Hanoverian cross. Fearless, super easy to ride, and she can jump the moon.”
“Are you a competitive jumper?” Markus eyed the leggy mare with admiration.
“When I have the time. Thanks for the roomy stall and paddock. Mocha loves to roll.”
“Sure. It used to belong to my stallion, who is no longer with us. You can also see this side of the barn from where your trailer’s parked.”
“Thank you. This is perfect. I’m sorry about your stallion. How long ago?”
“Last year. Hunting camp. Mountain lion. End of story.”
“Oh my God,” she gasped. “The taxidermy mount in the Maverick Inn?”
“That’s the one. Well, if you don’t need anything else, Rex and I’ll leave you two to get settled. It’s another half mile’s jog to the lodge.”
“Want me to drive you?”
“Thanks, no, you get settled. I’d rather run. I’ll be here at sunup to feed. My barn crew is off until after Thanksgiving, so it’s nice and quiet around here. The down side is all the chores are mine for a while. See you in the morning.”
She watched as Markus backed out of the stall and toward the door as he spoke, as if he were suddenly in a big hurry to leave. That was fine with her. She wanted to hurry and finish her barn chores, too. Get inside her trailer. Lock the door.
“Sounds good. I’ll feed and brush Mocha, get all this road dust off her before I turn in. See you tomorrow.”
Sidney removed Mocha’s black and gold sheet and draped it over the stall’s door. The mare dropped into the deep pine shavings, rolling like a dog scratching her back. Standing and shaking from nose to tail, she sent up a cloud of dust.
With a currycomb in one hand and a brush in the other, she groomed the dusty horse while Mocha munched her oats and hay. Sidney kept one eye on the western facing stall window and on the darkening horizon, the sinking sun no longer visible in the sky.
CHAPTER 3
Alpine
Markus hurried to Sidney’s truck and silently opened the rear passenger side door that he’d rigged with his gate key to remain unlocked. He opened the front passenger door. Inside the glove compartment, he found a pink leather holster with a shiny Taser that appeared brand new. Behind was a matching accessory bag. He unzipped it, his eyes widening at the discovery of what was inside—twenty individual bundles of one hundred dollar bills. If each bundle held fifty bills like the one he thumbed through, a hundred thousand in cash meant serious business.
A passport bearing the name ‘Sidney A. Knight’ was secured inside the accessory bag with a yellow sticky note reading, ‘Change ASAP.’ The photo resembled the Sidney McQueen he’d just met, despite a few alterations to her appearance. The truck’s registration papers and insurance card were issued in the name of a Trust. After carefully putting everything back into place, he depressed the door lock button, shutting the door without making a sound.
As he sprinted to the hunting lodge, thoughts tumbled around in his head. Who the hell is Sidney McQueen, or Sidney Knight? He’d seen better disguises on cheap Russian spies—even on amateur American spies, for Pete’s sake. And how did the Mountain Princess Trust fit in?
After locking Rex in his kennel, Markus took the stairs two at a time to the suite he occupied at the end of the hall. The other dozen rooms were empty until the day after Thanksgiving when the first of his deer hunting clients would arrive. He turned on the faucets for a quick shower and let steam fill the room. The hot water washed over him as he collected his thoughts.
He reflected on his movements—his actions—the past days, months, years. Had it been two, going on three already? People he’d met. Conversations he’d had. Clues he might have missed. Had he become complacent? Too confident his ‘John Walker’ identity had been buried and forgotten? Markus knew he’d been as careful as if he were still an active member of the Company. It was unlikely someone used Trevor to get to him—Trevor didn’t know about his past as ‘John Walker,’ Trevor only knew the real Markus Yeager. Surely no one had sent this woman here.
After toweling off, he pulled on a pair of black jeans and a black, long sleeved shirt, checking the clip on his custom Glock before tucking it into his waistband. With his laptop powered up, he clicked open his email, scanned down the inbox, read the brief note from Ruth at the Maverick Inn, and scanned farther until he saw one from Trevor.
Hey Markus, I’m sending someone your way. A damsel in distress. She’s in serious trouble. I won’t go into detail—she’ll tell you what she wants when she wants, but bottom line is she’s fleeing a dangerous domestic situation—husband’s a monster, and that’s being kind. Among other suspicious activities, her soon-to-be-ex-husband is involved in south of the border pharmaceuticals—no Rx required. My cellphone was compromised along with hers. Long story. I’ll get in touch with you as soon as I’ve got a new phone number. I just met her (Sidney Knight), but instinct tells me she’s the real deal. Mama concurred. I’m positive you will, too. Otherwise, I would not have sent her your way.
***Watch your back.***
Later buddy, Trevor
What the hell have you gotten me into, Trevor?
Markus leaned back in his chair and stared at the monitor, the words of the email a blur. Leaning forward, he read the message again, the knot in his gut tightening each time he skimmed the short note. He knew this was way over Trevor’s head. Trevor had some experience and was a smart guy, but young; how reliable were his instincts? His mother may have concurred, but how could either of them truly understand the sad reality of what humans were capable?
They haven’t seen what I’ve seen.
Trevor’s email said her name was ‘Knight,’ yet she’d introduced herself as ‘McQueen.’ Was it possible that someone connected the dots between ‘John Walker’ and Markus Yeager? If so, they could have connected Trevor to Markus. But who, and how? He closed his laptop, grabbed his night vision goggles, and slipped outside. Sprinting along the deer trail, moving quieter than a shadow, he took the back path through the woods that led to the stables.
A light was on in Sidney’s trailer. Ten feet away but hidden in the inky darkness, Markus caught a fragment of a glimpse of her behind the trailer’s lowered blinds. In such close proximity, his night vision goggles were unnecessary.
Unexpectedly, as if the security cord broke free, the door’s blinds flung upward. Framed in the window, she stood at the small kitchen counter as she poured a glass of wine, her tomboy clothes having been cast aside. She wore only her bra and panties. Very sexy, lacy, see-through bra and panties.
Markus sucked in his breath, held it. Damn. Wasn’t expecting this.
Sidney dashed to the trailer door’s full-length window and stretched her arm up, struggling with the distance as she reached for the cord to close the blinds. The end of the cord dangled just out of reach. Up on tiptoes, she managed to grasp hold of it. She gave the cord a tug and shuttered the blinds closed, just before giving the man in the shadows a full-frontal view.
Markus eased closer. He slipped behind the trailer and came up the far side, his back pressed against the aluminum siding. Out in the paddock, Mocha whinnied. A horse in the barn returned her greeting. More nickering. More whinnying. Soon, several horses joined in, a cacophonous welcome to the new mare on the block.
Markus moved closer to the barn’s west wall, muttering curses under his breath for the horses to be quiet.
The trailer door opened a crack. Sidney peered out, inching the door open a bit more, sweeping a flashlight over the darkness. She aimed the beam toward the paddock adjoining Mocha’s stall. The golden light settled on a crouching, dark figure that melted into the shadows. She shrieked and slammed the door shut.
Markus slinked into the barn and hurried to the feed room, grabbing the bucket of horse treats. The night vision goggles were shoved into a drawer in the supply cabinet. A red and white Sul Ross rodeo team jacket hung from a hook by the door. He shrugged it on as he moved swiftly, flicking on the main overhead light and covering the ground to Mocha’s stall with long strides. Stepping inside, he closed the stall door.
Flashlight in one hand, baseball bat in the other, Sidney burst into the barn. She stopped short when she saw Markus standing in her horse’s stall. Mocha, munching on a pile of
alfalfa treats, looked up and nickered.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” Her voice sounded high-pitched and breathless. “Something spooked the horses. I saw—I don’t know—maybe a mountain lion in the shadows. It ran away when I shined my light on it.”
“I heard the horses, too, and thought I’d come check on things. I was out for a walk, anyway.” He swallowed hard, imagining the sexy bra and panties hidden under the gray gym sweats she’d pulled on. “It may have been a stray dog. I didn’t see a mountain lion. But you never know, after what happened.”
“Exactly.” Sidney relaxed her grip on the bat. “Nice letter jacket. It seems everyone in town wears one.”
“Not my usual attire. It belongs to one of my barn staff.”
“I gathered that. Unless your name is Aubrey and you are the 2012 Women’s Barrel Racing Champion.” Sidney pointed to the insignia and logos on the jacket.
“Ah. Aubrey. She’s fast, all right.” Markus’s expression gave nothing away.
“Is that so?” Sidney raised an eyebrow, wondering if he meant fast in the rodeo arena, or someplace else.
Markus gestured with his chin toward Sidney’s bat. “If there had been a lion, were you going to beat it to death? A gun would offer better protection.”
“That’s true. But I have a fear of guns. Actually, it’s beyond fear. It’s paranoia. It wouldn’t be safe, owning a gun but being afraid to handle it.”
“I teach courses in gun safety. I can help you turn your fear into a healthy respect.”
Offering to help this woman learn to shoot a gun when his spy radar was on high alert made perfect sense, he told himself. If she was an operative, she would know damn well how to use a gun and her coy ruse would soon be made evident. It wouldn’t take much to challenge her bluff, if she was bluffing.
“Thanks. I’ll consider your offer.” She turned to leave, then paused. “I’ve been told you’re the person to come to for protection. For my own personal reasons, I’d like to know more about you. Trusting people has become, problematic, for me.”