by Wylder Stone
“Better, my brothers. My team doesn’t use these safe houses. They are only used by my family. We have a high-end security firm. We do personal security and protection, corporate work, cyber, you name it. Our cousins work with us too, from time to time, though unofficially.”
“So outside of your normal work, this is what you do? Is it like a really intense hobby or something?” she asked.
He laughed at her choice of words. “Yes. I always worked with my brothers on the side. Cesar was actually my last case before I retire and go work full-time at Elite Force Security with the boys, but things kind of got off track. Look, I don’t always know who I can trust from the agency. Anyone can be bought and blackmailed, so I rely on family.”
“The men from our first night…Atlanta?”
“My brothers,” he said, unsure why at that moment he felt like telling her everything when only the night before, he’d kept that information guarded. What was so different about today?
“So, I already met all the people in your stories?” Now she was curious. Figuring out who they were could help her figure out the rest of the mystery that was Owen.
“You’ve indirectly met them all, yes. Well, brothers anyway. I knew there was a leak somewhere in the agency that I worked for because a couple of undercovers from other branches disappeared after working for Cesar, and he seemed to be a step ahead on several attempted busts. So when you came into the picture, I knew I couldn’t trust the agency, not for a while anyway. My team is tight. I’m not worried about them, but the less they know, the less the agency knows. With extra lives on the line now, I called on Elite Force to take over.”
“Elite Force?” As if his top secret life wasn’t already confusing, he just added an entirely new layer of what the hell. “This sounds like a movie or something. So Liz and Mason?”
He laughed. “Oh, it’s all real, definitely not a movie. Elite Force is my personal team – my brothers. Derek and Troy went with Lizzy and Mason and got them settled. They still look out for them too. They all do. My cousins brought the cars we all left Atlanta in and took care of the cars we arrived in. They were already in Atlanta on another case, so they watched Lizzy too while everyone else was en route.”
“Wait, twins, opposites? Spike and Ken doll?”
Owen laughed at her reference, capturing their differences perfectly. Trista remembered them. “Yep, Spike and Ken, also known as Jackson and James. Jackson is ex-military and handles a lot of our tactical stuff. James is an ex-brainiac and handles all of our IT and cyber stuff. He’s a…uh…hacker.”
“Okay, so Derek and Troy went with Liz…” Trista searched her memory, trying to remember faces and details from the night they ran months ago. “Oh! Tattoos, there was a guy with tattoos and like piercings!”
“That’s Derek. He’s the rebel of the group but loyal as they come.”
“Then that leaves Troy. The really…big guy? That’s the baby of the group? He smiles a lot!” she said, recollecting the things that stood out that night. Sending her sister and son with a big tattooed guy who looked like a bouncer in a rowdy biker bar and the big beasty guy who kept smiling in the middle of a crisis didn’t feel like a great idea at the time but she suddenly felt relief.
“You got it. Troy is the youngest of the brothers – and the biggest. The mama’s boy,” Owen said, recalling how he referenced him the night before to close any gaps for her.
“Yeah, well, you’re all like…huge. And kind of intimidating. And you do crazy stuff for a living. Poor Mom.”
“We aren’t intimidating. We’re just…big,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “We’ve got each other’s backs, always. I don’t trust anyone but them with anything.” He was impressed with how much Trista remembered and how quickly she put it all together.
She jumped at a memory that came flooding back, piquing her curiosity now that Trista had some Force insight. “Wait. The people in Atlanta. I remember your brothers there. Your cousins – they dealt with the car swaps, and they cleaned out Liz’s apartment. Two guys and a girl. What’s their story?”
“Oh. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said, realizing just how much they did sound like something right out of an action-packed film.
“At this point, Owen Force, I’d believe just about anything. Need I remind you, I was, or am, or…whatever, married to an international crime boss who specializes in murder and the like? A literal cartel leader, it turns out.”
“Good point. All three are Forces. Cade and Connor are also twins – they just don’t look like it but most definitely act like it. Very much the opposite of James and Jackson, who look it but don’t act it. The girl is their sister, my cousin, Caris.”
“They work for Elite Force too then?” Trista asked.
“No. That’s the part you won’t believe. They’re bounty hunters, but not like those you see on TV, who come after you because you don’t show up for court when you’re busted for pot. They go after the world’s biggest and worst criminals. We work together a lot and help each other out. Share muscle and resources.”
“You’re right. I don’t really believe you. There’s no way Caris is a Force.” Trista laughed. “She is tiny and beautiful, and you boys are all…not tiny. What do you all eat to make you so…big?” She enjoyed hearing about his family – the whole story. There was so much passion running through that family. No wonder they were close and worked so well together and did the job that they did like it was nothing more than delivering pizza.
“Hey,” Owen said, “There’s a festival in town tonight. they’re calling it the town picnic and supposedly have a picnic table two city blocks long. Go with me.”
“Hmmm, changing the subject. Interesting,” Trista teased. “A…date?”
“No, not a date. More like…” He wasn’t sure how to answer. A date implied dating, and they couldn’t cross that bridge. “You deserve a night out. Some fun. Friends having dinner.”
She nodded her head. “Let’s have some fun then.”
6
Owen found himself out for another run around the lake. Trista didn’t think it odd since he liked to go running and tended to do it several times a day to break up the monotony. What she didn’t know was the reason for this run was her. It had little to do with habits and routine and everything to do with getting her out of his head.
Feeling Trista against him when she hugged him over art supplies, her smell, the heat, and her proximity were enough to make him forget everything and get lost with her. Intimately. He’d always had a soft spot for her, but that had taken on an entirely new look now. After months, years really, of trying to bury that feeling she stirred, Owen nearly had his taste of her. Like the universe was intervening, reminding him of boundaries and why he had them, it sent a sign in the form of a low-flying military cargo plane with a startling rumble. He didn’t even think there was a military installation near them which made the roaring jet even more out of place.
She had wandered in and out of his thoughts by day and danced in his dreams by night. Owen’s heart, too, if he was being honest with himself. And today, he had her in his arms. She made him feel despite his efforts not to. He had a hard time reconciling that because he wasn’t an emotional guy. Owen didn’t feel, couldn’t feel after all he had been through and all he had seen in his line of work. Even when she was acting like a spoiled brat, pissing him off, Trista moved him. He was in trouble.
The last time he let a case, a woman, in, they both nearly died, and he wasn’t nearly as invested then as he was now. He needed to find a way to put distance between them. As much as it pained him to, there was no other choice. He had to keep her at arm’s length no matter how close he wanted or needed her.
At some point, he had made it all the way back to the house with no recollection of actually getting there. He had been so distracted by his thoughts. He stood on the deck, stretching as his cool down when he decided to be a cliché and subscribe to if you love them, let them go. Love might be a s
tretch and not exactly where they were, but it was becoming more than friendship.
Letting her go now before it reached a point that would prove more difficult was necessary. To keep her safe, he had to break her heart and, in turn, break his own. After their night out.
He was pulled from his place of wounded emotions by the ring of his new burner phone as he walked inside the house. It was his brother. That wasn’t good.
Before Owen could get out a proper hello, Jackson spoke urgently, “Cesar’s men are in the area.”
Owen began to pace the floor, dread settling in. “How’d they find us?”
“Not sure. James is tracing now, trying to find any leads that put them there.”
“Okay, keep me posted,” Owen said, searching the house for Trista.
“You gotta go, man. Get outta there. Now. We’re coming your way. Don’t wait for us, though, we’ll catch up.” Jackson said.
Owen cleared the house and rushed back outside, looking everywhere. “One problem, man. I can’t find Tris.”
“Shit. We’re on our way. We’re still a step ahead of them. We’ll find her before they do,” Jackson assured.
Owen did a quick sweep of the house, grabbing their bags, and ran to the detached garage next to the house. Hopping in the car that had been stored there, he said, “I’m checking town. Fuck, she must’ve gone without me.”
Owen knew they were never coming back to this house once he found Trista. They were running again. If Cesar’s men were looking too, there would be no time to come back and switch cars and risk getting ID’d or, worse, trapped.
An inkling of sadness briefly took stage. He would miss Corner Creek and their house. He knew they wouldn’t be there forever, but being forced out after all they went through while there left him feeling disappointed.
This was the wake up call he needed. A harsh reminder of who he was protecting and why. The reason there could never be anything more between them than the man he was hiding her from. This was why they couldn’t be anything more than professional. It was too risky. Not only that, but he couldn’t handle the worry that came with her missing. God, he hoped he found her in time.
Scouring the town turned up nothing. Owen couldn’t find her. Though they were past that phase, he even checked the bars. Finally catching a tip, the sales associate at a corner boutique said Trista had been there. The woman in the boutique also said Owen was the second person who had asked about Trista. Cesar’s men had been there, so they were now a step ahead of Owen and knew she was alive or they wouldn’t ask. There was that heavy dread swirling in his gut again.
“What did you tell him, or them, about her?” Owen questioned, his panic threatening to consume him.
“Nothing. I said I’d never seen her. She was sweet, and they weren’t, so I put two and two together,” the elderly woman said.
“Wait, then why are you telling me? This is important, so please don’t send me on a wild goose chase,” Owen chided.
“I’m telling you because I think you’re the one the girl was talking about. The one she kept smiling about, I’m guessing.” The woman blushed and looked him up and down. “You’re the one she was shopping for, aren’t you?”
Owen stood in surprise, making the woman smile. “I hope so.”
He started out the door but stopped just before stepping through, and asked, “What did she buy?”
“A pretty dress and shoes,” she answered with a wink.
He grinned. Trista was in town buying something for their night out. As flattered as he was, it was all the more reason for boundaries. This was exactly why they couldn’t pursue any kind of relationship – this was the kind of unsafe he’d been telling himself for weeks now. The worry that filled his head and left him nearly blind was the other reason. He wasn’t one hundred percent because emotion was now clouding his skills and judgment. That’s how people got killed.
Back in the town square, he scanned the surroundings, trying to decide where to look next. There wasn’t much left to search. If she’d gone back to the house, he’d have passed her. There was also the real possibility that they already had her and he was searching for a ghost. Owen scanned the faces, looking for danger when his eyes locked on the only salon in town, which was across the road from where he stood.
Recalling what the saleswoman at the boutique said about her purchase, the salon made sense. New dress and shoes, neither practical for their lifestyle, so why not a new hairdo? It was about their evening out, their non-date, so Trista had to be there. If not, he didn’t know what he would do next.
Both anger and relief flooded him when he walked in, and Trista was the only customer there. She sat in a chair in front of a large mirror where she watched the stylist run her fingers through Trista’s wet hair. It looked as though the stylist, with big hair and bold makeup, was trying to talk Trista into one style or another when Owen stood by the gum-smacking stylist and looked at Trista in the mirror.
“Wh-what are you doing…here?” Trista asked, concern etched in her face when she saw his angry expression.
“We’re leaving,” Owen fired back, his tone matching his expression.
“But I haven’t even…” Trista’s face drained of color, and her eyes widened. She knew something was wrong. That face meant Owen wasn’t just mad – he was worried.
“Now!” He helped her out of the chair, unhooked the cape that had been draped over her, and grabbed the shopping bags sitting next to her on the floor.
Trista looked at him, searching his eyes for the answers he wasn’t giving her. His emerald green eyes were dark and stormy, but he wasn’t just angry with her. He was frightened. That could only mean one thing. That was when the awareness and then fear washed over her.
“Hey, hon?” the stylist interrupted. “It’ll only take us ’bout thirty or so minutes. We can do this quick.”
Owen slapped a hundred-dollar bill on the counter, and turned to say, “Another time.”
“Oh, honey, that’s too much money. I only washed her hair. I didn’t cut a lick,” the stylist said.
“Keep it,” he said, then grabbed a floppy summer hat from a nearby sales rack. “We’ll take the hat, too.”
Putting the money in her pocket, satisfied with the bargain now, she said, “Well, alright now, y’all take care. Come back and see me, hon.”
Rushing Trista out the door, Owen put the hat on her head, then grabbed a baseball cap from his back pocket. He put it on, along with a pair of sunglasses that had been hanging from his shirt collar.
“Don’t look at anyone. Just keep walking, and don’t let go of me.” Pulling her arm through his, he kept her close to protect her, but also so they would blend in like a couple out shopping.
“Owen, what’s going on?” she said softly, fear evident in her shaky voice.
When he didn’t answer, she whispered, “Owen, you’re scaring me.”
“Just walk quickly. We’ll be fine,” he said, short and direct. They were back to that.
“Owen…”
He looked her sharply in the eye, almost unable to finish his thought because his anger was so great. “You weren’t home. You were gone. I didn’t know…I didn’t know where you were! Now, walk!”
He was cold again. It seemed Owen could revert to this personality on a whim whenever it suited him. Trista thought they were past this stage, but apparently not. When they approached an unfamiliar car, her suspicion was confirmed and fear validated. They needed to run, and he couldn’t find her.
Guilt. It seemed that could come flying back on a whim, too. If they were running again, it meant they were running from someone. Cesar. A chill coursed through Trista, causing her to lose focus and stumble in fear.
Owen caught her and helped her in the car, grabbing her bags and stowing them away in the back. That was when she noticed their duffel bags. They were indeed leaving.
Quickly making his way around to his side of the car, he opened the door but only stood there. He glanced around once
more, looking for anyone out of place or worse…familiar. If they were in town, Owen didn’t see them, but that didn’t mean they didn’t see him.
They were on their way, headed toward the freeway, when she finally found her words. “This isn’t our car, Owen. This…this...it’s happening again, isn’t it?”
“Just leave the hat on, Trista. We need to get out of here,” he said.
“I didn’t do anything. I swear! I only used cash, said my name was Berley,” Trista reasoned, tears spilling over, hoping to get out of whatever trouble she was in with him.
“You ever heard of a note?! Or here’s an idea – just wait for me to get back so we can go together? Seriously, what the hell do you need with a new dress that couldn’t wait?”
In a small wounded voice, Trista said, “I wanted to look nice tonight at the festival. New dress, new hair…I wanted to feel pretty for a change – for…you.”
As they sat at a stop sign, waiting for a large crowd of festivalgoers to cross the road, his glare bore through her. Her desire to please him only seemed to make him more mad. She didn’t understand why.
Finally able to proceed, Owen returned his gaze to the road and went through the intersection when his focus shifted to three men. With their backs turned, they were out of place in what were supposed to be expensive-looking suits but were just cheap knockoffs. Owen’s cold and steely demeanor shifted to something she hadn’t seen before, and it was frightened her.
Trista followed the direction he was staring and caught the profile of one of the men, and her heart stalled. “Oh, my God. Owen. Oh, my…”
Her eyes were glued. Trista couldn’t stop staring, paralyzed by the fear that realizing who those men were generated. If they looked over, the look alone would give them away.
“Look at me. Just look at me, Tris, not them,” he said calmly. “Keep your eyes on me until I tell you otherwise.”
Doing as Owen asked, she held her breath, suppressing the sob trying to escape her as the tears flooded her pale face. That look, those tears, that fear Trista held crushed him. She was scared, and that was way too close.