One Tough Marine

by Paula Graves

  “You’re killing all the roaches,” she murmured to Luke.

  “This one’s not my fault.”

  “You’re still killing all the roaches.”

  The dashboard clock read 2:20 a.m. Almost an hour ago, Kristen had called Luke back and given him directions to the motel, telling him to park in front of room 1C, unpack everything from the SUV and knock on the door.

  “Can we trust her?” Abby asked. “I mean, I know she’s your sister-in-law, but she’s also a police officer—”

  “With no jurisdiction in Greenwood.”

  “She could be setting up a trap for the locals—”

  “No,” Luke said firmly. “She’s a Cooper.”

  “You thought Ross was setting us up,” she grumbled as she unbuckled her seat belt and opened the car door.

  “Yeah, but he was your ex-boyfriend. Completely different dynamic.” Luke shot a grin her way as he opened his own door.

  He got the bags while Abby unbuckled Stevie from the car seat. The little boy cried a little until his face settled into the curve of her neck, then settled down and went back to sleep.

  “I’ll get the car seat in a minute.” Luke came around the SUV with their bags. He nodded toward the motel-room door.

  Abby knocked on the sad blue door. She heard the faint sound of movement inside, then everything went silent. She glanced at Luke, who shrugged at her.

  The door opened suddenly, revealing a slim blonde dressed in jeans and a light green sweater. Her long hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, which would have been a terrible look for a lot of women, but it worked for the blonde. She had clear blue eyes and a kittenish face, with wide cheekbones and a small, pointed chin.

  The woman’s gaze briefly took in Abby and Stevie before settling on Luke, a smile playing over her lips. “I suggested Sam give us code words to use,” she drawled, “but hell, you’re all Cooper. No mistaking that. I’m Kristen.”

  Luke grinned at the blonde. “I’m Luke. This is Abby and her son, Stevie. You gonna let us in, sis?”

  Her smile widened and she stepped back to let them inside the small motel room. There was only one bed, Abby noted with chagrin, and the bedspread had seen better days.

  Much better days.

  “I wouldn’t touch that bed,” Kristen warned. “Sit in the chair by the desk. We’re not going to be here long.”

  “We’re not?” Abby asked, not hiding her relief.

  “This is for show.” Kristen’s eyes took in the bags Luke had dropped on the floor just inside the room. “Where’s Stevie’s car seat?”

  “In the SUV,” Luke answered.

  “Get it on the way out,” Kristen said briskly. She handed Luke a set of keys. “The blue Jeep Cherokee three slots down. Bags in the trunk, then set up the car seat in the back. I’ve got to make a quick call and I’ll be right out.”

  Rising wearily from the desk chair, Abby followed Luke outside the motel room and into the cold November night. “She’s not much for the niceties, is she?”

  Luke grinned as he stopped at the Dodge to fetch the car seat. “I like her.”

  “Yeah, ’cause she reminds you of a drill sergeant.”

  He shouldered the car seat and followed her to the dark blue Jeep parked three slots down, just as Kristen had said. He set up the car seat first, so Abby could belt Stevie in while he was stashing the bags in the trunk.

  Abby yawned as she finished buckling her son in. “Who’s she calling, your brother?”

  “I guess so.” Luke came up behind her, sliding his hands over her shoulders. She leaned back against him, grateful for his warmth and strength. “How’re you holding up?” he asked.

  “I was kind of hoping to sleep in a bed tonight, but not the one in there.” She nodded toward the motel room. “I guess she must have booked the room for a couple of nights so nobody will think the SUV’s been abandoned?”

  “Probably.” He bent his head, pressing his cheek to hers. He’d shaved at the Pattersons’, but they hadn’t had time for baths or much else since then, and his beard was growing thick.

  She smiled at the bristly tickle. “Maybe she’s booked a nicer hotel room somewhere. With a big tub.”

  His voice rumbled against her neck. “And clean sheets.”

  “Maybe those yummy mints on the pillows—”

  Kristen emerged from the motel room, tucking her cell phone into the front pocket of her jeans. She walked quickly to the Jeep and looked over the roof at them. “Y’all set?”

  Luke opened the front passenger door for Abby. “I’ll sit back here with Little Bit.”

  Abby glanced at Stevie, reassuring herself that he wasn’t fussing. He was sleeping peacefully in his car seat.

  Poor baby. He’d been a trooper for almost the whole trip, not fussing too much when she’d had to change his diapers on public diaper tables in fast-food joints or buckle him back into his car seat when he should have been cuddled up in his crib.

  “Please tell me we’re going to a nice motel for the night,” she murmured when Kristen slid behind the steering wheel.

  Kristen gave her an enigmatic look but didn’t answer. Abby looked over her shoulder at Luke, who was buckling in next to Stevie’s car seat. He gave a little shrug.

  Kristen drove the Jeep back onto Highway 82, heading back to the west, from where they’d come. Abby gave Luke another questioning look.

  “Aren’t we going the wrong way?” Luke asked.

  Kristen shook her head. “We’re heading to the airport.”

  Luke frowned. “Why?”

  “Because that’s where the bird is waiting.” Kristen turned off the highway onto a two-lane road that wound about a quarter mile through a wooded buffer zone before the runways of Greenwood-Leflore Airport came into view. She bypassed the terminal, slowing only when they were past the main runways. She turned the Jeep down a narrow lane near the western perimeter of the airport. The lane ended in a large Quonset hut set well apart from the rest of the airport structures. A dark blue helicopter sat quietly on a flat square strip a few yards from the metal building.

  “We’re flying in that?” Luke asked.

  Kristen cut the engine and opened her car door. “You’ll be in Gossamer Ridge by morning.” Not waiting for them to join her, she exited the Jeep and headed for the Quonset hut.

  Abby looked back at Luke. “You still like her?”

  Not answering, Luke got out of the car, turning back to retrieve Stevie from his car seat. Stevie woke this time and started crying for Abby.

  “Shh, baby.” She took him from Luke’s arms. “I hope your family knows what they’re doing.”

  “Me, too,” Luke murmured, quickly unlatching the seat and swinging it over his shoulder. He went around to the back, put the car seat down on the ground and checked the hatch. It opened and he started pulling the bags out of the back.

  Movement near the Quonset hut drew Abby’s attention. She saw Kristen walking back toward them, accompanied by two men. With only moon glow and the distant lights of the airport illuminating them, Abby could make out only a few details. Both men had short dark hair and were dressed in jackets and jeans. From a distance, they reminded her of Luke.

  “Luke,” she said.

  Luke looked up at her, following her gaze to the approaching trio. He released a soft profanity and dropped the bags by the car. He took a couple of unsteady steps toward Kristen and the newcomers before picking up his pace, reaching Kristen and the unidentified men at a near-run. Abby tightened her grip on Stevie and followed.

  Luke skidded to a stop in front of the shorter man, who grabbed Luke’s upper arms tightly in both hands. He flashed a smile that gleamed white in the moonlight, then pulled Luke into a fierce bear hug.

  Shocked by the sight of Luke Cooper with his face buried in the other man’s neck, his shoulders shaking with unmistakable emotion, Abby faltered to a halt a few steps away, her heart pounding a frantic, unsettled cadence.

  Kristen left the men an
d came to Abby’s side. “It’s okay,” she said, reaching up and rubbing her hand against Abby’s back in a soothing circle. “He’s okay.”

  At the sound of Kristen’s voice, Luke pulled away from the shorter man and turned to look at Abby, his face damp with tears. He shot her a watery smile and reached out his hand to her.

  She walked to his side, her gaze locked with his. Only when one of the other men spoke did she drag her attention away from Luke’s emotion-racked face.

  “You must be Abby. And this is Stevie?”

  Abby looked up at the second of the two strangers, who stood a couple of steps behind the man who’d hugged Luke earlier. He looked to be in his early forties, with short black hair flecked with silver and pale eyes that betrayed perpetual sadness, despite his welcoming smile.

  “This is my oldest brother, J.D.,” Luke said, his voice thick and unsteady. “Former Navy mechanic and helo pilot.”

  “Flew a Seasprite,” J.D. said, still smiling. Still looking sad, somehow. Then Abby remembered. J.D. was the one whose wife had been murdered. Luke had told her J.D. still wasn’t really over it.

  “And this is Sam.” Kristen walked to the other man’s side and slid her arm around his waist. Her earlier no-nonsense demeanor melted into a look of sheer adoration as she gazed up into her husband’s happy face.

  “Nice to meet you, Abby.” Sam smiled at her, his gaze sliding down to take in Stevie, as well. Something in his expression shifted, and Abby realized Sam knew the truth about her son. She looked up at Luke, who put his arm around her and grinned, looking younger and happier than she’d ever seen him.

  “J.D.’s going to fly us back to Gossamer Ridge,” he said, his voice bright with excitement. “We’re going home.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  There was no one else in the Quonset hut when Sam and J.D. led them inside. The interior was full of supplies, helicopter parts and, near the far end of the structure, two helicopters sheltering from the cold within the building’s cavernous belly.

  “The guy who runs this hangar finished refueling us, and he’s gone back home for the night. We’re supposed to padlock the place when we leave,” J.D. explained.

  “Mighty trusting,” Abby murmured.

  “He’s the brother of the guy who owns that chopper out there. You remember Barry Rutledge, don’t you, Luke? The guy who runs Chickasaw County Aviation.” J.D. walked ahead to a narrow, podiumlike desk near the side door of the hut and started writing something on a sheaf of papers attached to a clipboard.

  “Why don’t we go get Stevie’s car seat set up in the helicopter?” Kristen suggested to Abby, giving her a light nudge toward the open hangar door.

  “We’ll be right behind you.” Sam waited for them to get out of earshot before turning to Luke. “You hanging in there?”

  Luke felt another sting of tears burning the back of his eyes. “Yeah. It’s just—”

  “Complicated?” Sam suggested.

  Luke smiled. “I do seem to be using that term a lot these days. Listen—anything new on either Reid or Cordero?”

  “Not on Reid. On Cordero, I’m hoping some queries I’ve made will pan out soon.”

  “Half the democracies in the western hemisphere are looking for Cordero. If they can’t get their hands on him—”

  “I’m hearing really good things about the new president of Sanselmo. People I trust tell me Almovar is dead serious about cleaning up the cartels. He’s putting a lot of political capital on the line to stop Cordero and his cohort.”

  “And painting a target on his own back,” Luke added bleakly. “I wonder what Barton Reid thinks of him.”

  “Reid’s buddies in the region loathe Almovar. They don’t trust his good relationship with the United States. So my guess is, Reid is probably looking for ways to undermine Almovar.”

  “And help Cordero,” Luke added. “What if Reid and Cordero have joined forces to find Abby and me?”

  “You should have told us about all this when it happened.” J.D. walked up behind Sam. He’d left the clipboard on the podium desk and picked up a large padlock from a table nearby. “What do you think family’s for, idiot?”

  “Bustin’ my chops, apparently.” Luke fell into step as his brothers headed for the exit. “What about the theory that Barton Reid has formed his own private army?”

  “Oh, I can tell you what’s going on with that,” J.D. said.

  Both Sam and Luke stopped short, staring at their eldest brother. “Really?” Sam asked skeptically.

  J.D. grimaced. “You two think you were the only guys who had to deal with State Department jerks like Reid? I spent six years in the Navy and six more in the Reserve. We ate State Department jerks for breakfast. If you want to know who’s doing Reid’s dirty work, look at an outfit called MacLear.”

  “The security company?” Luke asked. “It’s one of the best in the business. Great reputation.”

  J.D. snorted. “For coverin’ their tracks, maybe.”

  Luke glanced over at Sam. His brother shrugged.

  “Jarheads,” J.D. said with an exasperated growl, heading briskly out the door.

  Sam and Luke scrambled after him, helping him close the heavy corrugated-metal doors. “What makes you connect MacLear to Barton Reid?” Luke asked.

  J.D. padlocked the door, giving the lock a tug to make sure it was secure. “You know who Jackson Melville is, right?”

  “MacLear’s CEO,” Sam answered.

  “We served together on the same ship ten years ago. Total brownnoser and a real skate—never did anything he didn’t have to. Lieutenant junior grade and going nowhere, career-wise. Drank too much, gambled too much and blamed all his mistakes on other crewmen.” J.D. grimaced. “Then one day, the captain assigned Melville to babysit some State Department jerks. Barton Reid was one of ’em. Two weeks later, Melville was reassigned to the Pentagon permanently.”

  J.D. started walking toward the helicopter. Luke fell into step next to him, Sam on their heels. “And?”

  “Suddenly he’s getting promotions right and left, showing up on TV as a Pentagon spokesman and sometimes doing the Sunday morning shows,” J.D. continued. “He retired to take over the helm of MacLear when Talmadge MacLear died three years ago.”

  Luke had to admit, the timing, along with the connection to Barton Reid, seemed pretty suspicious. MacLear had an excellent reputation in the business, but it wouldn’t be the first time such a company turned out to have a seamy underbelly.

  They reached the helicopter. Kristen and Abby were inside, settling Stevie into his car seat. Abby looked up and met Luke’s gaze, a slight smile curving her lips. He smiled back, eager to tell her about J.D.’s theory. She was levelheaded; she’d tell him whether he was crazy to think his brother’s conspiracy theory had some merit.

  Kristen backed out of the helicopter and came to stand next to Sam. “You ready to hit the road?” she asked him.

  Luke looked at his brother. “You’re not flying with us?”

  Sam shook his head. “I’m driving back with Kristen. Less weight in the bird will make the trip back safer and faster for you. We’ll be back there sometime tomorrow. I’ll find a way to see you and hopefully, I’ll have more to tell you about both Reid and Cordero.”

  “Are you going to check into J.D.’s theory?”

  “I’ll ask around, see who knows what.”

  Luke reached out and gave his brother a fierce hug. “Thank you, man. I don’t know what we’d have done without your help.”

  Sam pulled back, his expression serious. “Any new ideas about where Matt might have hidden whatever it was he took?”

  “Oh, man—can’t believe I forgot to tell you!” He told Sam his theory about the flash drives. “Last I heard, Hannah still had the one that wouldn’t open.”

  Sam grinned. “I remember that! She was positive that whatever pictures were on the disk that wouldn’t open had to be the best pictures ever, and she spent weeks fiddling with the file to figure a way p
ast the password protection.”

  “Does she still have the flash drive?”

  “Probably. She got sidetracked by the whole falling in love with a cowboy and getting married thing, and then having a baby. But you know her—I’d bet she’s still got it. You can ask her when you touch down in Chickasaw County. She’s supposed to be on the welcoming committee.”

  Luke gave Sam another hug. “See you soon. Thanks again.”

  Sam patted his shoulders. “You owe me, kid.”

  Luke knew his brother was right. He owed Sam more than he could ever hope to pay.

  LUKE FELL ASLEEP almost as soon as the Bell 407 lifted off, the combination of sleepless nights and the relative security of being able to trust his safety to his brother’s care allowing him to relax fully for the first time in days. Probably even years. He woke a couple of hours later as the helicopter began its descent to the Chickasaw County Aviation helipad.

  Sam had been right. Luke’s sister, Hannah, was waiting for their arrival, standing a safe distance from the helipad, next to a tall, rawboned man in a black Stetson who had to be her husband, Riley Patterson. Hannah waved excitedly as the helicopter touched down, and Luke grinned back at her.

  God, he’d missed the little minx.

  “That must be Riley,” Abby murmured sleepily from beside him. “I hope he’s heard from Jim and Rita and they’re okay.”

  Luke caught her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “Sam would have told me if they weren’t.”

  “How far to the cabin?” She looked at Stevie, who was starting to fuss. The helicopter’s engine had jarred him awake when they took off in Greenwood a couple of hours earlier. Abby had sat next to him for a while until he got used to the roar and settled back down to sleep. Now the silence of the shut-down engine had awakened him again.

  Luke reached across and unbuckled Stevie from the safety seat. The little boy held out his arms eagerly, letting Luke pull him across the narrow space into his lap.