She strained to hear what he heard. Tried to figure out what he saw, but gave up. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone’s outside.”
“You saw . . .” No, not saw. He probably sensed it and that was good enough for her. She tried to remember where the safe was in the room. “I need my gun.”
There was one loud knock.
The sound stopped her. “Do attackers usually ask to be let in?”
If Damon heard her, he didn’t show it. He was too busy standing at the side of the door. Maybe he thought someone would kick it in. She had no idea but this time she would have a weapon ready. She just needed for him not to get himself killed before she could load it.
“Get away from there,” she said in a strained whisper. Her fingers pressed in the lock code and she reached for the weapon.
But he already had his hand on the knob and pulled. The open door blocked her view to the outside but she saw Damon freeze.
His mouth dropped open. “Oh, shit.”
That was good enough for her. She stepped around the door and aimed her gun at the guy standing there. Barely even saw him except for the male face part.
Damon moved lightning fast. His hand came up and he pushed the barrel down toward the floor. “Cate, no.”
“I don’t . . .” She realized the tension had left his face. In reaction to his sudden calm, her shoulders relaxed, and so did her stranglehold on the gun. “Why not?”
He smiled at her. “Because you’re about to shoot our inside man.”
Chapter 8
Damon saw the guy on the other side of the door and couldn’t help but smile. He should have known this was coming. Of course Wren sent Trevor Gault, one of the Quint Five, a friend for more than a decade. And one lethal son of a bitch.
Through a combination of smarts and charm, Trevor could sneak in anywhere and somehow fit. Based on sarcasm alone, the guy should have been shot and killed long ago. But he bounced back. He was that guy. The one who could run into a raging fire and come out petting a kitten.
Trevor held up a bag from a fast-food restaurant and shook it. “I brought dinner.”
The lightness in his tone. The dirty blond hair that always looked a few weeks past haircut time. That sunny surfer-boy smile he’d been flashing around for more than thirty-three years despite the fact he grew up in Pittsburgh and now lived in the mountains. The open-front plaid shirt he wore over a T-shirt, even in summer, as if neither the heat nor the cold touched him.
Some things never changed, and Trevor was one of them.
The longer Cate stared at Trevor, the more confused she looked. “Who exactly are you?”
Trevor’s relaxed demeanor didn’t falter under the scrutiny. “A friend.”
“You guys grew up together at Sullivan?” she asked, clearly not ready to mentally declare Trevor a friend rather than a potential attacker.
“Hell, no. That place produces some seriously messed-up folks.” He smiled at Damon. “Just saying.”
She joined Trevor in glancing at Damon. “He seems smarter than you.”
Trevor winked at her. “I like you.”
Rather than risk another shoot-out or accidentally make Trevor into a life-sized target by standing in the open, Damon motioned for him to come inside. With the door shut and locked, Damon started introductions. “Cate Pendleton, this is Trevor Gault.” Damon winced. “Or are you using a different name?”
“Yeah, you guys clearly are friends.” She rolled her eyes as she walked back into the main living area. “Same general disheveled-but-hiding-a-killer-underneath look. The annoying multiple names thing.”
“Whoa. I am much prettier.” Trevor followed her. Stood across from her and dropped the bag on the table between them.
“Trevor and I trained together after I left Sullivan,” Damon said, hoping to cut off too many questions.
She dropped into the chair next to her. “Trained for what?”
Damon answered her with a sigh.
The noise started Trevor laughing. “Oh, come on. You had to know she would ask that. You opened the damn door to that question.”
“Combat.” There. Damon figured that was a good enough answer in light of the fact he already got attacked by an unknown knife-wielding assailant today.
“Right.” She treated him to a second eyeroll. This one went way up, like the kind of eyeroll that could give a person a headache. After the dramatic presentation, she stared at the bag right in front of her. “You brought food?”
Trevor must have found her tone inviting because he sat down across from her. “I know you left the diner without eating.”
“How?” She tugged down a corner of the bag, as if trying to take a peek inside.
“I have people everywhere.” Trevor lounged in his chair with one ankle crossed over the other knee, but he stayed alert. His gaze followed Cate’s every move.
Not that she noticed. Nope. She was too busy slipping a french fry out of the bag.
She snorted. “See, you guys say stuff like that and I think you think it’s comforting.”
The longer Trevor watched her, the more he smiled. “No?”
“Not even a little.”
“That’s too bad because I love saying it.”
The bag crinkled as she started snooping in earnest. After taking a few wrapped items out she looked at Trevor. “You brought him a burger, I’m guessing.”
“Two.”
Damon was pretty sure he could eat the bag at this point. “Good man.”
“Heaven forbid he eat chicken,” she mumbled under her breath.
Damon thought about ignoring her, but it was so much more fun to tease her. “I was stabbed tonight. That’s enough punishment.”
Trevor uncrossed his legs and his foot fell to the floor. “Stabbed?”
“You missed our visitor.” Damon came the rest of the way across the room and met them at the makeshift work area he’d set up between the rooms. “He shoved Cate and took a whack at me. Unfortunately, he held a knife at the time.”
“Motherfucker.” Trevor sat up straight, all signs of amusement gone as he looked at Cate. “Are you okay?”
“Nothing that a few french fries won’t solve.” She saluted him with one.
“I’m fine, too. You know. In case you care.” Damon noticed how Cate helped herself to a few from each bag of fries. “You’re sharing those, right?”
“Maybe.” Then she popped two fries in her mouth.
“There’s plenty of food in the bag.” Trevor took over distribution duties. He had all the food spread out on the table, complete with napkins and condiments in two seconds. “Now, someone tell me what happened.”
Cate unwrapped her burger and went to work deconstructing it. The onion was the first to go. “Big guy, over six foot. Bulky build. He manhandled me and cut Damon’s arm.”
Trevor’s gaze shot to Damon. “Did you recognize him?”
“He was wearing a mask but Cate said it wasn’t Vincent. Because he didn’t smell right.” Damon touched her shoulder to get her attention as he settled in the chair next to her. “Correct?”
She didn’t look up from repositioning the tomatoes from the top bun to the bottom one. “You got it.”
Trevor held up a hand as if he were asking for permission to talk, which was something he would never do. “Smell?”
Cate eyed up Trevor over the top of her burger. “Who exactly are you? And, to be clear, I’m not asking for a list of your pseudonyms. I mean, really. What’s the reason you’re here?”
Trevor’s eyes widened. His gaze flipped from her burger to her face, as if he didn’t know what he should talk about first. “First, Trevor really is the fake name.”
She frowned at him. “Of course it is.”
Trevor looked at Damon, who could only shrug. His entire life had been like this since he met her. She asked questions and led him around in circles. She made it clear the whole protection thing did not impress her.
“I’ve been em
bedded at Sullivan since the first time you tried to reach Wren.”
That one seemed to stump her. “What?”
Damon had to admit he hadn’t expected the answer either. “That timing seems early.”
If he understood Trevor, that meant Wren had been playing a really long game here. He’d set up a mission at Sullivan long before Cate’s final demand to see him. Damon wasn’t sure what any of that meant.
Trevor shook his head as he continued to stare at Cate. “You went looking for Wren. He checked your background, realized your story was legit and wanted me to gather any intel I could.”
She pointed at Damon. “But he is the one with a connection to the place.”
“Which is why Trevor is here instead.” Damon knew that much.
“I work the grounds, keep my head down and listen to every conversation anyone has anywhere on the property. Then I report back,” Trevor said.
“Because that’s your training.”
Trevor didn’t seem upset by her comment or subtle digging. “I also like to blow up things now and then.”
When Trevor looked as if he intended to go into details, Damon cut him off. “She doesn’t need to know about that.”
She’d been spooked in her own house and thrown around outside the motel. Somehow, she held it together. She didn’t scream or cry or beg to go home. If he were her, he probably would have done all three. They were perfectly legitimate, rational civilian things to do. The fact she didn’t show more fear actually worried him. She struck him as a survivor. She’d need those skills to face off with the folks in charge of Sullivan these days.
“Fast-forward to you contacting Senator Dayton.” Trevor balanced his weight on the back two legs of the chair and reached over to the small fridge. In a perfectly orchestrated case of putting this arm here and that leg there, he managed to open the door and grab a bottle of water. “At that point, Wren had already collected intel and decided your sister likely was murdered, which is why he let the senator arrange the meeting.”
Cate made an odd noise that sounded a bit like humpf. “That’s a lot of manipulation.”
Trevor screwed off the water lid. “Welcome to our world.”
“Let’s go back to the part where your friends believe me.” She shot Damon a you-are-the-problem-here frown. “Which is a nice change.”
Trevor followed her gaze back to Damon. “Why is she glaring at you?”
“He has to be convinced of the facts surrounding Shauna’s death.” She sounded as unimpressed as a person could possibly sound.
Trevor took a long swig of water. “Oh, he gave you the I-need-evidence speech? Classic Damon.”
“Excuse me?” Damon threw that in there but he had to admit Trevor was not wrong. He did collect information. The one time he didn’t—he just blindly believed—he wasn’t the only one who paid the price.
“You, too?” she asked. “I thought only I got that treatment.”
Trevor shook his head. “It’s his thing. Me, I charge in based on gut. Damon needs more.”
That was enough of this topic. Damon reached for one of the burgers. “That’s not true.”
“He has trust issues,” Trevor said, getting one more shot in.
But Damon really hated people talking about his supposed trust issues, so he tried to put an end to the conversation . . . again. “He also has ears and is sitting right here.”
“And as much as I want to continue talking about Damon while he listens and tries not to implode, I have to get back to Sullivan.” Trevor put the lid back on the water bottle. “I’ve stuck close to the place since I got there and don’t want to act differently now that you’re in town.”
“How did you get out of the commune?” Such a soft word for such a terrible place, but Damon used it anyway. He adamantly refused to call it a school because it hadn’t been that for years, if ever.
“It’s not a prison. Honestly, it would be easier if it were because then we could call in law enforcement—ones we trust, not any that still might be on Sullivan’s payroll after all this time and after everything that happened—and take that place apart piece by piece.” Trevor sounded intrigued by the idea. His voice actually rose a bit with excitement as he talked.
“Is it dangerous there?” Cate asked between bites.
Trevor looked like he was thinking through the question, turning it over in his mind. “Not that I can see. But, honestly, it’s nearly impossible to get good intel.”
“Why?” Damon asked.
“They don’t exactly let the new guys count the ammunition or look at hidden bank books.” Trevor shook his head. “All Wren could do was get me in. To do that, he provided the right cover and produced a fake recommendation from a former Sullivan resident who no longer lives in this country. That got me on the property, but even his reach doesn’t work inside. I’m listening, and all the talk so far is about legitimate issues and concerns.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Then how do you know there’s still a problem at Sullivan.”
“Instinct,” Trevor said without hesitation. “There’s a bit too much gunplay by some of the members for my liking.”
That quick, the amusement moved back into her face. She shook her head. “You two even sound alike.”
“You say something like that after I brought you dinner?” Trevor joked then sobered a bit as he looked over at Damon. “Point is, ten minutes after you hit town a buzz of activity started at Sullivan. Lots of people in closed-door meetings. Whispers.”
Not a surprise, really. Damon had actually hoped that would happen. All except the physical attack part. “That explains how Vincent tracked me down.”
“That and the guy who owns the diner is tied to Sullivan,” Trevor said.
Damon nodded. “Always was.”
“Well, you wanted to get their attention.” Cate finished the first bag of fries and reached into the second one. “I say that while not being sure who they actually are.”
Trevor held up a hand. “Though I have to say that I’m not sure whatever happened here tonight was about Damon.”
Damon snorted as his hand moved to his side. “Sure felt like it.”
“What does that gain them to immediately go after you? They don’t know why you’re here.” Trevor asked as he continued to play with the lid to the water bottle, screwing it and unscrewing it. “They attack you and miss and now you can cause trouble.”
Seemed obvious to Damon. “I’m assuming they didn’t expect to miss.”
“Then they would have sent more than one guy.”
Trevor made good points, Damon hated to admit, because that meant the threats to them originated from different directions. He could fight on one front, no problem. On two? That made things harder.
Cate glanced over at Damon. “Exactly how many people in Salvation hate you?”
“It’s likely a high number.” Trevor aimed all of his attention at her. “But, no. Tonight was something else, and I fear it could be about you.”
“Me?” She looked wide-eyed and startled at first but then she nodded her head. “Someone who doesn’t want me to poke around and ask questions about Shauna’s death.”
She was smart. She got it. Damon just wished she’d act a bit more concerned about being a target. “Someone with something to lose. Which means you’re leaving here.”
He couldn’t be clearer than that. She had to know—
She was already shaking her head. “That’s not happening.”
“We’ll discuss this later.” And by that he meant he’d pack the car and argue with her on the way out of town, but they were going.
She didn’t even pretend to be interested in the food now. “You mean we’ll fight and I’ll win.”
Trevor whistled. “Man, I wish I could be here for that, but I have to head out.”
“What if someone sees you?” she asked.
“I’m kind of an expert on sneaking around. My truck is parked a good distance away and hidden. I waited until the manager
got on the phone and ducked in the shadows. Even took out the light next to your door to hide my coming here.” Trevor listed off his subterfuge like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You sound like a man who goes into a situation with a plan.” She glared at Damon as she spoke.
“You mean, unlike your fake boyfriend here? And yes, I know about your cover and it’s hysterical.” Trevor pointed toward Damon with the end of the water bottle. “Before I sneak out of here and back to Sullivan, can I speak to you for a second?”
“Boy talk?” she asked.
Trevor shook his head as he led the way outside. “An unrelated message from Wren.”
With everything that had happened, Damon didn’t like being out in the open or leaving her alone. Anyone who wanted to get to her would have to fit through the small bathroom window and he’d like to think he’d hear that noise. But it was more likely she’d shoot the person before he could rush back in.
They walked across the porch into the suffocating darkness, while they both scanned the area. The dark night made seeing too far out difficult. Close in wasn’t that easy either. Damon made a mental note to replace the missing lightbulbs along the porch.
They ended up at the edge of the parking lot, wedged between the end of the rental car and the porch leading up to the now shadowed motel room door. It wasn’t the best space but it provided a limited amount of cover. Damon decided it was good enough for a quick talk. “What does Wren want? And it better be to apologize for getting me into this assignment.”
“I made that up to get you out here.” Before Damon could comment, Trevor continued, “But I am worried about this. With all the secrets around here, Salvation is not a place you should be.”
Damon knew Trevor meant Sullivan, Salvation and the state of Pennsylvania. The whole area provided an opportunity to fall down a hole Damon wasn’t sure he could climb back out of again. “You think I don’t know that?”
“We both know you would have turned this job down if there wasn’t a tiny piece of you that wanted to come back here for some sort of fucked-up showdown.”
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