by Regan Black
“It’s not US Marshal business, Trina. You know the deal. I’m sorry you weren’t able to get your man, but you got Agent Bristol out of there, and that’s the end of US Marshal involvement.”
“I’m on leave.”
“Trina.” Corey’s exasperation was familiar. She often pushed her duty to the limit of its legal boundaries, if it meant they caught the bad guy.
“It’s okay, Corey. I’ve got all those days held over from last fiscal year, and I’ll go to my new place and set it up all next week as planned.”
“Fine. But Trina?”
“Yes?”
“Cover your ass out there.”
“Thanks, boss.” The line cut off, and she felt the warmth of Rob’s gaze on her but refused to look at him. She didn’t have the answers as to why she’d still chosen to be with him through this, knowing the risks and knowing Jake waited at home for her. All she knew was that if she didn’t do her best to help out the virtually enslaved women, she wouldn’t be able to look her son in the eye. She believed in always working for justice.
“He’s right. You should be on that bus, Trina.”
“Just get us out of here, Rob. Before Constable Buddy shows up again.”
Rob drove but didn’t let up on their previous conversation. “I’m not asking you for anything here, Trina. I mean with us. All I want is a chance for me to know my son, if you’ll agree to it. It’s pretty clear that whatever we shared is over—we’re two different people, living very different lives.”
“I don’t have to be reminded of that, Rob. Your name used to be Justin, remember?” She knew it would hurt, tossing that grenade out there. Rob had been clear that he was no longer Justin and wanted, needed, her to not call him by that name. A tiny part of her wanted him to feel the pain she’d gone through when she’d believed he’d died. It wasn’t a part of herself she was proud of.
“You haven’t lost your touch for cruelty, Trina.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” She stared at the road as they passed by the constable’s vehicle, good old Buddy sitting inside sipping from a thermos. “And for the record, I’d never keep you from your son. My only concern is how we’ll present it to him, but kids are pretty resilient—it’s not a cliché for no reason.”
“I appreciate that. We can discuss it more after we’re back in Silver Valley.”
“Did you buy a place in town?” Her stomach was so tight as she verbalized what she’d wondered since she learned he had returned to Silver Valley.
“No. I’m renting a small house on a much larger farm. It used to be the owners’ in-laws’ house, but now the owners need the cash.”
“That’s a common way to make ends meet around here. Rather, there.” She took in the slope of the mountain they were climbing. “This is only two hours out, maybe three, and yet the scenery is so different.”
Rob remained silent. He’d never been the small-talk type.
“What about you, Trina? You own a place in Harrisburg?”
She squirmed on the leather seat. “Actually, I’ve recently purchased a home on the west shore of the Susquehanna, in Silver Valley. It’s a farmette of sorts. I wanted a place where I could have chickens if I wanted to, and for Jake to have a bigger yard.”
“He’s in kindergarten?”
“Starting in September, yes. It’s full day out by us.”
“What kind of school?”
“Public. There are many options, but the public schools are excellent.” As evidenced by the higher tax rate, but she’d do anything to ensure Jake’s education.
“What about bullying?”
“What is this, Rob, the Inquisition? You haven’t even met him yet.” As soon as the words were out, she realized how harsh they’d sound to the man who’d missed the first five years of his son’s life. Rob was right; she hadn’t lost her streak of cruelty.
“True.” He looked like he was going to say something but his lips were clamped tight and he focused entirely on his driving. As if, like her, he didn’t want to prolong any illusion that there was anything left to salvage between them. Physical attraction was one thing, but to commit to the very person who had caused so much hurt? That was impossible.
* * *
They weren’t on the secondary road for five minutes before Rob’s phone vibrated so loudly they both jumped. It was Claudia.
“Read it out to me.” His hands on the wheel, his mind out of reach for now, he didn’t move to pick up his phone.
Trina picked up the heavy black cell that was obviously capable of a lot more than her phone, from its weight to the extra app-like programs on the opening screen.
Move in. Backup on the way, thirty minutes out. She watched his reaction. “Sounds like our go-ahead.” Trina spoke clearly, as though they hadn’t just dropped the equivalent of a relationship nuclear bomb between them.
“It is. Let’s use the next ten miles to go over our plan.” Rob started to list various situations, and Trina gave her response in rapid-fire style, the way they’d handled operational preparations in Iraq. It had been highly unusual for Trina as a P-8 pilot to become deeply involved in SEAL ops, but she and Rob had met during a particularly intense op tempo that had required all hands on deck. Meaning she’d caught tiny glimpses into what Rob and his team were facing. They’d never worked this closely together, however.
“Trina, I’m not happy about both of us going into an op that could turn deadly in a heartbeat. If something happened to both of us, where would that leave Jake?” Rob spoke as though he’d always thought of his son first. A pang deep in her chest threatened to break through Trina’s professional poise.
“First, we’re going to handle this without any trouble, and if there’s trouble, we’ll deal. Second, I made my brother Jake’s guardian in the event of anything happening to me. Between him and my parents, Jake will want for nothing.”
“Except for his mother, and now a father he doesn’t even know is alive!”
“I know it’s been a lot for you to take in, Rob. And I’m sorry about that. But if you can focus on meeting Jake, having the opportunity to know your son, I think you’ll feel a bit better.” She found it so odd to be the one comforting Rob. Usually her brother had to talk her down from worrying too much about Jake. She missed her little boy fiercely. The longest she’d ever had to be away from him was three months, for a short overseas assignment while she was on shore duty. Since she’d been in the US Marshals, they’d only experienced a few weeks of separation here and there.
“We didn’t have a kid to worry about in the war zone.” Rob was like a guard dog, and he wasn’t letting go of this bone. “How can you work as a US Marshal when you have a kid?”
A flash of anger made her composure disintegrate. “Let’s get something straight. I owe you no explanations for any of my choices. You’re the one who died, the one who chose to remain dead! You gave me no choice in the matter. So don’t come waltzing back into my life and think you can start throwing your judgment around.” She might not be the perfect mother, but Jake was the perfect little boy. Happy and healthy, which was all that mattered to her most days. He was growing up with a good dose of appreciation for hard work, too. Trina had scrimped and saved over the past five years for their new home in a top school district. The sprawling farmhouse and surrounding property gave Jake room to explore. It was going to be the best place to raise him through high school.
No, she’d said nothing wrong. Rob needed to get a grip on where their boundaries were, ASAP. Or risk another excoriating verbal attack.
Maybe she was the one who needed to be certain of her boundaries.
* * *
Trina’s words were more bracing than menthol lotion hitting his skin right after he’d shaved his deployment beard. Because they rang all too true.
Her words sounded harsh, but were an accurate assessment of what had
happened. He’d been declared dead, found and brought back to a functioning human being, then he sought Trina out and seen her with what he now knew was his child, but at the time he hadn’t made the connection. And he’d chosen what he thought was the noble path—to allow Trina and her family to go forward without the complication of him showing up again.
He hadn’t questioned his motives for walking away, always chalked them up to duty. But had they been deeper?
“My country needed me for the CIA back then, too. I can’t go into specifics, and won’t, not on our way back into ROC territory. But there are some things you’re not aware of that I’ll eventually tell you.”
“Oh, goody.” She deadpanned her reply, and he couldn’t stifle his grin.
“I knew I could count on you to keep things light before we get into the thick of this op.”
“Trust me, it’s not on purpose.” She leaned forward in her seat. “Enough of our history—it’s time to earn our paychecks. There’s the building the truck trailer is supposed to be parked near. Up there through the trees, do you see it?” She pointed at the long shipping container, the same kind used on cargo ships and trains. They were driven all over the eastern seaboard, pulled by powerful diesel engine rigs that exchanged one standard module for another with ease.
He nodded. “I sure do. Are you ready for this, Trina?”
“Damn straight.”
He parked the car and they got out; the forest floor was blanketed with dry leaves. It was peak fire season as no rain had fallen for over two months, highly unusual for the past century but typical of the warming weather patterns.
“Ready.” She put on her earpiece under a US Marshal ball cap and tested to ensure she and Rob were synced.
“We’re good to go.” He handed her the rental ring of two keys and a fob, and his fingers brushed her upturned palm. It zapped a zinger of attraction straight to his dick. Exactly what he didn’t need for this operation to be a success.
“Above all else, stay low and safe. Wait for my signal to come out and help me with the girls. Do not under any circumstance reveal yourself before then. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.” She met his eyes, and he knew he read her perfectly. She was prepared for whatever this faction of ROC threw at them.
“So that puts you right about here.” He motioned toward a group of low bushes at the edge of the clearing. Only twenty-five yards ahead was a corrugated metal building, similar to the one where he’d been held captive.
Trina didn’t respond verbally as she crouched low and prepared a tiny hideout area in the deciduous shrubs. Forsythia, he thought, that had passed its bloom a few months ago and was now a tangled mass of vining branches, the mint-green leaves starting to shrivel in the drought.
“You can take a clipping of it if you’d like.” Rob couldn’t help noticing how much she adored the local flora.
“I’m good, thanks. Don’t forget to call in when you need me.” On her haunches and posed like a mean badger, Trina was ready to strike anything that came her way. He’d best remember that.
Rob headed for the building that looked like the one from which he’d barely escaped with his life only two days ago, wondering where his common sense had fled. He trusted Claudia’s intelligence that told him about the risks, and on paper it looked like a fairly methodical takedown for human traffickers. At all costs he had to act as if he knew what he was doing, in the likely event he ran into Vasin or even Ivanov.
The air was heavier than yesterday, the bright, hot sun giving way to heavy, thunderous clouds. They’d be lucky to rescue the girls before it rained down buckets.
* * *
It was difficult to watch Rob walk away and out of sight. Logically Trina knew that he had to; the trailer where the girls were being held was around the other side of the building. And she had to stay here—she was his backup if things got ugly before they got the young women safely out.
She checked her surroundings repeatedly as she’d been trained. It was second nature to her. A crack of a twig and she spotted a herd of deer; rustling in the leaves helped her identify a groundhog. The forest was a cacophony of animal noises, from the constant chatter of squirrels to birdsong that swelled as the day grew longer. The heat had refused to let up, and her T-shirt and pants were stuck to places she didn’t want to think about. Her shower in her new house’s master bedroom was tiny but would be pure bliss once she finally got back to Silver Valley. Home.
Jake. Thinking of home immediately brought him to mind, and she could almost smell the sweet scent of his hair after he’d played out in the sun. Soon, son, soon. I’ll be home before you know it.
If all went as planned, she could be home tonight.
Nothing from Rob either on her earpiece or via text. It’d only been a few minutes; she wasn’t supposed to check in until after fifteen.
At ten minutes, her calves needed a stretch, and she did so by doing forward bends, straightening and moving her knees in long, slow movements. As always she was careful to remain as quiet as possible. Just in case.
The sound of a door opening had her crouching back down, and she watched as Vasin walked out of the storage facility as if it were any other day and he was any other man looking for sunshine. He had a cigarette in one hand and a semiautomatic rifle in the other, its strap slung over his shoulder. As if he were a Russian soldier and not the hardened criminal that he was. It was beyond frustrating to be unable to do anything in the moment. Her fingers twitched as if they wanted to cuff him on the spot. If she spoke into her comms unit, she’d risk being heard. She didn’t want to text Rob as her movements, even hidden in the brush, could be detected by Vasin. As she observed, he walked around, taking a smoke break. He’d eluded capture yesterday, and she realized that it was almost certain that Ivanov was in the facility, too. Vasin wouldn’t come out of that building slinging such a powerful weapon unless there was something, or someone, inside to protect.
A shout from the open door, in Russian. Vasin answered in a guttural low stream of words Trina had no chance of translating. She’d been studying conversational Russian over the past two years as ROC became more of an issue for her job, but Vasin was too far away to catch the actual words. From his body language, he was annoyed at being bothered but went back into the building after smashing his cigarette with his heel. Even ROC heeded the fire season warnings.
As soon as the slam of the door cracked through the otherwise silent area, Trina noticed movement to her far right, alongside the edge of the forest clearing. Two men, not in uniform, walking in slow steps around a parking area for ATVs and small commercial trailers. Two of the three ATVs from yesterday were there; she’d memorized their license plates. Satisfaction curled in her belly, knowing that one was still missing because she and Rob had stolen it and left it on the side of the road, in the woods.
Trina heard a shout in Russian directly behind her and she flattened to the ground on her belly, her heartbeat reaching into her throat. Please don’t see me. She longed for her P-8 flying days, when she’d be able to watch an op like this from thousands of feet above. Her pistol was in her hand, the safety off.
The sound of footsteps grew closer, and she held her breath in the dense bush, knowing that if the interlopers saw her booted feet she was dead.
Jake. Her baby.
When she thought she couldn’t take one more second without oxygen, two bulky men walked within feet of her, past her hiding location and toward the building. As soon as their footsteps were out of earshot she carefully retrieved her phone and texted Rob. He had to know that they were far outnumbered, at least until backup arrived.
As she tapped in her message, she’d never felt more torn between mission and personal needs. Namely, Jake’s needs as a young boy. Rob was right. Jake deserved a mother who could be there for him 100 percent. What the hell was she doing out here?
It’s the operational exha
ustion talking.
It wasn’t uncommon to think you never wanted to do a mission again when faced with danger. Trina shook her head, slightly. She had to knock off the negative thoughts. She and Rob were a good team and would do what they needed to do. What came afterward for them wasn’t her concern. Right.
* * *
At least four men with AR-15s circling perimeter. Vasin appeared with AR-15 during a smoke break. Someone inside bldg called him back in. Too far away to make out words.
Rob read Trina’s text, and a shot of fear cleared his mind of anything but figuring out how to get the young women out of the eighteen-wheeler trailer four hundred yards in front of him. It was parked behind the building he suspected Ivanov was in, half of it shoved back into the woods. At least there was some shade on it. But the cries of the women still reached his ears, as did the reprimands the lone guard gave them. ROC had stationed the skinny bastard at the open back of the trailer. Rob had watched two pairs of women be allowed down the ramp and out into the woods, the guard ordering them in Russian to “hurry up and piss” in front of him. They were beyond sobbing, but he heard the women cry out as they stepped, barefoot, onto the dry, heat-baked pine needles. It was so typical of ROC to have these women totally at their mercy. The lack of shoes was deliberate, as was the refusal to allow them the use of a normal bathroom facility. Nothing would be left to chance, not when the Russian crime ring was getting tens of thousands of dollars per woman.
Another text came in, this one from Claudia.
FBI within ten minutes
Ten minutes. He had ten minutes to neutralize the guard and then take on the trolls that Trina had reported. If they were very lucky, they’d handle it all without anyone in the building finding out until it was too late. The FBI would take care of the rest—take out Vasin and whomever he was protecting in the warehouse building.
As the minutes passed, he shot off a text to Trina. She didn’t reply right away, but depending upon where the guards were, she might not be able to. That didn’t stop the heavy creep of fear from sliding across his gut and up his spine. Stay here. Stay with the mission. His combat mantras usually helped, but he’d figured out that in the brief thirty-six hours since he’d come face-to-face with Trina again, nothing in his life could be classified as “usual.”