Midnight Kiss

by Lisa Marie Rice

  Getting it down by the time the plane taxied to a stop hadn’t been easy either.

  He had to do better. So right now, getting going on the mystery threatening Hope’s life was more important than kissing her again or — and he had to admit the thought had crossed what passed for his mind — bedding her.

  So — first things first.

  Luke made sure that Hope was safely inside, settled into the passenger seat and then rounded the vehicle, placing their wheelies in the back seat. His duffel was heavy. He had a Glock 19, an MP5 carbine, several flashbangs and bulletproof vests, for him and her. Hers was going to be huge on her if it was ever necessary for her to put it on. But huge and uncomfortable and cutting into her thighs was better than dead. Night vision goggles with IR capability. He had a Smith & Wesson HRT knife in his boot and a nice big razor sharp Ka-Bar in his bag. And ten boxes of ammo for both weapons. He was loaded for bear.

  Knowing Jacob Black and his company, the vehicle would be kitted out with everything but a nuclear bomb. Once he was a part of ASI, he’d be thoroughly briefed on ASI vehicles and Black Inc vehicles but he knew them inside out already. His cell told him that this SUV even had a stealth drone that could be fitted with small explosives and could fly at 20,000 feet for 24 hours.

  When he pulled his driver’s side door closed, it was heavy and closed with the quiet whump of a heavily armored vehicle.

  It was good to know he was equipped because he didn’t know who the fuck he was facing. He checked Hope out without moving his head. She’d had a meltdown on the flight down but then so had he. He had never ever been anything less than professional on the job and here he’d kissed her like he’d never been near a woman before. Like she was water and he was parched in the desert.

  What had that been about? He wasn’t sex-starved. Yeah, it’d been a while, but then he’d been busy fighting off bottom-feeding lawyers, trying to save his reputation and mourning his father. He knew where to find a woman if the itch burned. Bars and clubs did the trick most of the time. He wasn’t in the market for a brainy and beautiful programmer who looked like a building had fallen on her. She wasn’t his type. She had complication written all over her beautiful face. Luke’s life was complicated enough.

  But he couldn’t have been pulled away from her with a crane.

  She was staring out the window to her right so he could study her for a moment. He got it from Felicity that Hope was a genius. She’d shot through college and then grad school like an arrow and had had her pick of prestigious jobs. A woman on a trajectory of success, with one high-level job after another.

  And yet — right now she looked like a lost child, slumped in the seat that was engineered for a big man. This successful, beautiful, brainy woman looked fragile, defeated.

  Well … yeah. It was entirely possible that her biological father was trying to kill her. A shot that could come out of the dark at any time. From her father.

  Luke didn’t know too many people, outside the military, who wouldn’t be crushed by that kind of stress.

  He was ready to take off, but hesitated a moment. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

  She didn’t even try to ask what he meant.

  She nodded.

  Luke wasn’t fooled. She wasn’t OK. She couldn’t be.

  Of all the things Luke had seen and done and had done to him, this was the one thing that would have broken him. Betrayal, by someone who was supposed to care for you.

  He’d been through the shitter. He’d had lawyers charging seven hundred bucks an hour go after him with everything they had. But he’d also had the full support of his big boss, Bud Morrison, the police Commissioner, the full support of his fellow cops and the full support of everyone at ASI. He’d felt that support, like a warm wall at his back.

  And he’d had his father, steadfast to the end with unconditional love and support. His father’s heart had been broken but he’d never wavered a moment. His heart had given out before his love had.

  Hope’s father might be trying to kill her. Luke had been a soldier and a cop and he’d seen the worst of humanity but this — it was almost impossible to wrap his head around it.

  He glanced at her again. So very smart, so very pretty. With good friends who stood behind her. One friend had sacrificed his life for her.

  Who would want a daughter like that dead?

  Well, not on his watch. And not ever.

  He started up the vehicle and pulled out. Felicity and Hope were trying to pick up a scent. Maybe Hope had found out something. He would investigate. How he was going to do that, he had no idea. But he’d been a cop and a good one and the terrain always provided something. You just had to be smart enough to find it.

  So far the only lead they had was Happy Trails trailer park. It wasn’t much and it was a trail that was twenty five years old, but it was all they had at the moment.

  The GPS screen on the dashboard showed that the Happy Trails trailer park was on the other side of the city. The GPS recommended route went through the center of town instead of skirting the city.

  Hmm. There would be more videocams in a city center than on the outskirts. But passing through the center would save them a lot of time.

  Luke trusted that Black Inc’s vehicles had privacy protections. The plates would be registered to a shell company and he’d seen for himself that though the smoked glass was not illegally dark, it was impossible to see inside because of the application of a special film. ASI vehicles had that film on the glass of their vehicles as well. It allowed an excellent view from the inside out but no one could see inside.

  Hope had pulled out her laptop and was following their route. Only on her screen, it was a top down view, in real time. He could make out their vehicle. The quality of the image was excellent. Crystal clear and detailed.

  “You have a drone?” he asked, astonished.

  “No.” She didn’t lift her head. “Not mine.”

  “Not —” and then he shut up. If it wasn’t hers then … it belonged to someone else. And she was hacking into it.

  Not in a million years would Luke have been able to a) find a drone in under a minute and then b) hack into it. Clearly, he was in the presence of a Master. Or Mistress. Mistress of the Dark Arts. He smiled a little, because she definitely was a cyberwitch, even if she didn’t look it. She looked about twelve, hunched over her laptop.

  They approached the historic city center. He knew some of the buildings dated back to the Gold Rush that had established the city on the Sacramento River. He drove under the speed limit through streets with historic buildings full of touristy shops and trendy restaurants.

  Hope looked up from the screen for a moment and did a double take. She straightened in her seat, looking around.

  Luke watched her out of the corner of his eye. “What?”

  “What?” The face she turned to him looked slightly shocked.

  His voice was sharp. “Did you see something? Is something wrong?”

  She shook her head. Not saying no, just seeming to try to clear her head. “How can I know if something is wrong? I’ve never been here before.” Her head turned back to looking outside the window.

  Luke shut up. Whatever was going through her head was complicated and he was a simple guy. He was here to ferry her around and protect her and he’d do that. There was some deep mystery here and he wasn’t the guy to solve it, not on his own. He’d just make damned sure that when the mystery was solved, Hope Ellis would be still standing.

  Washington DC

  Court Redfield looked at his cell, expecting news from Resnick. But there was no news. Hope Ellis had disappeared off the face of the earth and was still missing. This was bad and came at such an exceptionally bad time. He’d declared his candidacy to a roomful of powerful donors and there was no going back. In a week’s time, Court was going to officially declare his candidacy and start his campaign for the presidency, on a platform of moral probity, and his life would be under intense scrutiny.

 
; Already he’d spent a lot of time shielding his money from prying eyes. There was a class of rabid, ferret-like online journalists now who made a point of digging up dirt. His money was hidden but he had to make sure there were no threads anyone could pull.

  That was bad enough, to have this going on while his entire team was focused on riding the wave after declaring his candidacy to the money men. They were all expecting him to be focused like a laser beam on the coming campaign, and he couldn’t do that while embroiled in this mess. All of this was compromising a campaign he’d been planning for thirty years.

  But that wasn’t the worst of it. There was still something he feared more than an aborted political campaign. His son, Bard.

  All these years, Court had had no idea that Hope Ellis existed. She died 25 years ago, goddammit. He’d made sure of that, or so he thought. Her mother had died and she should have died as well. That pretty girl in Sacramento was supposed to be a bump in the road, someone inconsequential. A way for his red-blooded son to get his rocks off.

  When Bard showed an unhealthy attachment to the trailer-park trash, Court had taken steps. He’d had to, right? That woman was going to ruin Bard’s life. He’d told her Bard died. Five years later, to his horror, after an article on Bard appeared in the news, she’d written letter after letter, insistently, showing photographs of a daughter. Court had had the letters intercepted. He knew he had to take strong steps. A quiet command to the right man, a quiet exchange of money, and the problem was solved. Even better, the problem was gone. Bard had no clue. And life continued.

  He’d risen so steadily to the top, step by step — the governorship, Deputy Director of the CIA, the Senate seat. And now he had a good shot at the very top of the ladder, the Presidency. People were tired of the chaos of the past few years and wanted a steady, experienced hand at the helm. Court could promise that. He was a good administrator, a good manager, would keep the ship of state on an even keel after the past turbulent years.

  The fact that he wanted the power and intended to earn money off it meant nothing. He was good for the country and the people who counted sensed that.

  Really, all he needed was his son by his side occasionally.

  Bard. Bard was such a remarkable soldier. A Navy SEAL, for fuck’s sake. Spent most of his life abroad, defending his country. That was excellent, on so many levels. And Bard was easy to love from afar, while he was gone on long deployments.

  Not so easy when they were in the same room.

  Still, Bard was such a superb campaign prop. Court’s campaign director was obsessed with him. Bard in his dress whites was an amazing sight and photographs of him being awarded medals were going to play a big role in the campaign.

  Everything according to plan.

  He sat in his office, rubbing his chest, feeling disaster coming like a freight train. With the potential of ruining his plans and his life. Forced to give the order to kill, well, kill his granddaughter.

  It was … a pity. For a moment, Court mourned what might have been. Bard never married and probably never would. The Redfield family tree stopped with him. For just a moment there, Court allowed himself a little sentimentality.

  A grandchild. A granddaughter. He held the report on her in his hands and had to admire her. She didn’t seem to be a fashion plate, didn’t appear to do much with her looks, but she looked like a Redfield. She had the Redfield green eyes and blue-black hair and fine features. She was super smart too. Graduated from MIT at 21…

  Smart and good looking. She’d have made a great addition, an excellent prop. He could picture himself on the campaign trail with a brainy and beautiful granddaughter, an expert in IT, by his side, helping him. He actually needed good help with social media. She’d be so perfect.

  Pity.

  For an instant, Court thought of acknowledging her. Out-of-wedlock births were no longer a stigma, really, even in his own social class. Hell, half the births these days were out of wedlock. No one really cared. This Ellis girl was so smart and so pretty and had even worked for the NSA. A patriot. It would work. He could make it work. Could even generate a lot of favorable press. Photos of the candidate hugging his newfound granddaughter … it would tug at a lot of heartstrings.

  But … Bard was no dummy. He’d start asking questions and eventually he’d find out what Court had done. Bard would never forgive him, ever.

  Court sighed as he studied Hope Ellis’s photograph.

  As soon as Resnick found her, she’d be gone, and no one the wiser.

  Pity.

  Sacramento

  “Here,” Hope said abruptly, sitting up straight. “Turn right.”

  Luke slowed and turned right, into what looked like a field of weeds. On his GPS, the turnoff was in twenty yards but he trusted Hope, braked, and turned right.

  Straight into, yup, a field of weeds.

  The SUV was armored and sound-proofed but on any other vehicle, the sound of weeds and tree branches brushing against the undercarriage and against the doors would have been loud. They dipped into a ditch briefly and then — Hope was right. He steered the vehicle straight onto an access road that was overgrown with vegetation but that once had been asphalted.

  Hope had closed the laptop and was leaning forward, not looking at her cell and not looking at the GPS monitor on the dashboard, just looking straight ahead.

  The road under the vehicle became smoother. They were where they were supposed to be.

  They passed a section dense with willows and oak that dimmed the sun overhead, then the road curved and there it was.

  HAPPY TRAILS TRAILER PARK. The painted words were on a curved section of wood high overhead held up at either end by sturdy poles, surrounded by unkempt grassland and broken sections of fencing. The only intact thing in view was the sign itself.

  Happy Trails was anything but happy. At first, Luke thought that it was a deserted trailer park but looking closer, there were a few signs of life. Not many. Mostly it was cars up on wheel blocks, sofas on dry lawns with springs showing, overflowing dumpsters, burned grass on the tiny lots.

  A rat ran across the road, furtive as a thief.

  He opened the driver’s side window and took in the smells. Dust and burnt rubber, the scent of linden trees with a faint overlay of sewage.

  Someone shouted and got a shout in return. A dog barked in the distance. A car started up, wheezing and rattling. Definitely not an ASI or Black Inc vehicle. But nothing living moved where it could be seen. Just dirt and stone and desolation.

  “Stop the car,” Hope said and to his alarm, she didn’t even wait. She unbuckled the seat belt, opened the door and hopped out just as he braked to a stop. Good thing the brakes were in perfect order.

  “Hey!” Luke said as she walked fast down the center of the lane. He tried to keep alarm out of his voice as he scrambled to catch up with her. Goddammit! He was her bodyguard so she had to keep her body close to him so he could fucking guard it!

  Luke tugged at her elbow to slow her down. It didn’t work. He was stronger than she was. Taller, bigger. In shape. A highly trained warrior. But he couldn’t get her to slow down without hurting her so he merely lengthened his stride and kept up.

  Hope looked like a bomb had gone off inside her head. Her eyes were lit up, like green headlights, huge and mesmerizing. The dusty lane led to a small intersection, where other dusty paths led off. There was a small circle where the paths met and she skidded to a stop, her sneakers lifting a little cloud of dust.

  She looked up at Luke, a frown between her delicate eyebrows. “I know this place, Luke. How do I know it? Am I crazy?”

  “Maybe déjà vu? You’ve been here before? Or somewhere similar?”

  “No. That I know of, I’ve never been in a trailer park in my life. I’ve never been in a place as run down as this before, either. And I’ve never been to California.”

  He shrugged, wondering if the stress of her life being threatened was warping her mind. Stress did major damage to people. One soldie
r in an FOB had been carried off screaming that the Taliban were aliens.

  Though, all things considered, he hadn’t been that far wrong.

  Hope was looking distressed but there was nothing but sober sanity in her eyes.

  “Maybe you have been here,” he said gently. “But don’t remember it.”

  She shook her head. “Before yesterday, I’d never been west of the Rockies. Hell, never been west of the Mississippi. My parents —” she blinked, cocked her head, as if hearing herself for the first time. “My parents,” she continued slowly, “never wanted me to go west. And they never went west, either.”

  Luke clamped his hand around her elbow. Not painfully, but forcefully. She was going to stay by his side. “Why don’t you walk around a little, see if more memories come?”

  “Yeah.” But Hope didn’t move. She just studied the terrain in front of her carefully. Luke stood by her side, quietly. Waiting. She was seeing what he was seeing. A tract that cried poverty and degradation. None of the broken-down trailers looked lived in, though a trailer three lots down the central path had laundry fluttering from a piece of wire strung between a roof strut and a nearby tree. All the other trailer houses looked deserted, unlivable.

  A cat wandered down another path toward them. A tabby, looking cared for. It had a collar and glossy fur. The only thing that looked cared for in the whole damned place.

  Hope was studying a hedge by the side of the dirt track. The hedge was overgrown, a wild tangle, so thick nothing could be seen on the other side. Suddenly, Hope plunged straight into the hedge. “Swimming pool!” she shouted.

  Damn. Luke plunged in right after her. No telling what was on the other side. There could be something sharp, rusty nails. He was up to date on all his shots, including tetanus, but was she?

  Damn.

  He pushed his way through, following Hope’s trail of broken branches. In a moment he was out on another barren stretch of hardpan. Swimming pool! That was what she’d said and goddamn if there wasn’t a swimming pool right in front of him. Or what had once been a pool and was now a cracked cement hole in the ground full of rotting leaves and dead branches and some dead rats. There was even a cracked diving board at the other end.