by B. B. Hamel
I understood why Travis had needed to get supplies. Stakeouts were boring, really, really boring. We were basically just sitting there watching the motel. People were coming and going, but nobody that seemed even slightly suspicious. Lots of truckers, one or two families, but mostly men with women who looked far too young for them.
“Hookers,” Travis said at one point.
“What?” I asked him.
“You were staring at that young blond girl and wondering why you keep seeing older men getting rooms with younger women.”
I laughed and nodded. “Yeah,” I said.
“Hookers,” he said again.
“Don’t ruin the girl,” Emory said, grinning. “She’s not ready for the seedy underside of the world.”
I shook my head, and we all went back to watching. I shouldn’t have been surprised that they were prostitutes, but I was. The motel did look like the place you’d bring a hooker, though. Cheap rooms, crumbling architecture, the kind of place that hasn’t been updated in twenty years. It was probably pretty nice back in the day, and now it likely only existed because of hookers and their clientele.
Soon it was night. Hours passed and absolutely nothing happened. Travis passed out the snacks, and our dinner was basically just junk food and more junk food. I was getting restless and antsy, but I wasn’t going anywhere. I needed to stay. I couldn’t let myself give in to my own weaknesses.
Finally, at around nine at night, Emory’s phone started ringing.
“Yeah?” he answered. He nodded along. “We saw that charge too. Sixty percent sure? Say that room number one more time. Okay, Lucy. Thanks. You were a huge help.” He hung up the phone.
“What did the brains say, cap?” Travis asked.
“We’re in the right place,” he said. “Now we have a decision to make.”
“Spit it out,” I said to him.
He grinned at me. “Well, seems a security camera caught some footage of a few men walking into room fifteen of this motel. One of them tripped the facial recognition software.”
“Omar,” Travis said.
“Sixty percent certainty,” Emory said, frowning. “Not a great match.”
“But it’s a lead,” I said. “We’ve been staring at this motel for hours. What else can we do?”
Emory looked back at Travis, who shrugged. “She’s right. And if they’re planning something, we don’t have time to waste.”
“Shit,” Emory said. “Fuck. Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Travis, we’re getting inside that room.”
“Hell yeah we are, cap.”
“I’m coming too,” I said.
“No,” Emory said seriously. “You can’t come. You have to stay in the car and leave the engine running. If something happens, you have to be ready to drive.”
I sighed. “Okay. Fine.” I figured there was no point in fighting it. Emory wasn’t going to let me come with them, and besides, if something did happen, I wouldn’t be much help. I’d just get in the way, force Emory to have to watch out for me while fighting the bad guys.
No, I knew I needed to sit this one out as much as I didn’t want to. At least he was giving me a real job to do.
I watched as Travis and Emory got out of the car and popped the trunk. They began strapping on vests and tossing jackets on over top of them. I rolled down the window. “You know people can see you, right?”
Emory smirked. “Nobody knows what we’re doing.”
“You two look crazy.”
“We are crazy.”
“Yeah, but the scary, bad crazy.”
Travis laughed, zipping up his black jacket. “If we didn’t have the SEALs, we probably would be.”
Emory zipped up his jacket. “Come on. Let’s fuck shit up.”
They got back into the car and Emory pulled out into traffic. He did a quick U-turn and then made a right into the motel’s lot. He backed into a spot and then looked at me.
“Stay here no matter what. If you see us running toward you, do whatever I’m saying. If I’m yelling at you to leave, leave. If I say wait, wait for us and then drive. Got it?”
“I got it.”
He got out and I climbed into the driver’s seat.
“Be careful,” I called after him.
“I always am.”
Travis gave me a thumbs up, and then the two men quickly walked across the parking lot.
They melted into the shadows. I could see the room from where I was sitting but not much else. I looked around the parking lot nervously, but it was empty. Cars drove past on the road, but nobody pulled into the lot, and nobody was moving around the other rooms.
The shadows loomed deep over the motel. I watched as the door suddenly jolted inward. I couldn’t see them, but I knew they both were inside the room. The door shut behind them.
I realized that I was gripping the steering wheel nervously. I took a deep breath, trying to relax, but I couldn’t. Emory was in danger. He was putting his life on the line barely a hundred feet away from me. I could practically see in my mind Emory getting his body riddled with bullets, falling to the ground covered in blood, and it made me want to throw up with worry.
Nothing happened. I stared, anxiety mounting, but there was nothing. No sound of struggle, no gunshots, no screaming, just an eerie silence hanging over the otherwise desolate parking lot. It was taking every ounce of my willpower not to run out of the car and bang on the door.
Another minute passed. I was twitching with anxiety and worry. I couldn’t lose Emory, not now, not with so much hanging in the balance. It wasn’t the terrorist attack or anything like that, but it was my feelings for him. I realized I was in so much deeper than I had thought, and I was falling deeper every moment. I couldn’t lose him because I felt like I was just getting him.
Then the door opened and Emory was there, spotlighted by the single, weak, yellow outside light. He waved at me, gesturing for me to come.
I killed the engine and stepped out of the car. I trotted over toward him. I could see the tension in his face, the worry.
“What happened?” I asked.
“They aren’t in there,” he said, “but we did find something.”
He turned and walked into the room without another word. I followed him, wondering why he needed me.
The room itself had two double beds, an old television that probably didn’t work anymore, and that was pretty much it. The walls and ceilings were stained yellow from tobacco and the room smelled like someone had thrown up in it recently. It was basically the grossest hotel room I’d ever seen in my life.
Travis was sitting on one of the beds, holding a picture.
“Take a look,” Emory said.
Travis held it out to me, and I took it slowly. I turned it around and my heart leapt in my chest.
It was me.
I was smiling for the camera, my hair in pigtails, a big clod of dirt in front of me. I was maybe five or six, and you could tell that I was just about to topple over into the mud.
It was my dad’s favorite picture of me. He carried it with him in his wallet.
“This is me,” I said. “I mean, when I was a kid. My dad usually carries it.”
“Usually?” Emory asked.
“Always. He always keeps it.”
Travis and Emory exchanged a look.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s another clue,” he said. “We must have just missed them.”
“My dad was here?”
“There are some used glasses in the bathroom and the shower is still wet,” Travis said. “We must have missed them by an hour, tops.”
“How did they slip out?” I asked.
“Likely went around the back or some other way we didn’t know about,” Emory answered, crossing his arms.
“What do we do?”
Emory and Travis exchanged looks again, and then Emory sighed. “We have to assume the worst. It’s happening, Tara. We’re going after them.”
; I sat down on the bed, feeling numbness spreading all throughout my body.
I understood exactly what he meant by that. The Network was making its move, and they were making it tonight. They were taking my dad with them and they were doing something horrible. They were going to try to melt down a nuclear reactor, and if that happened, then the whole Michigan area was going to be a nuclear wasteland. Hundreds of thousands of people would die.
And we were all that stood between the terrorists and that happening.
“I’ll prep the gear,” Travis said, standing. He left the room, shutting the door softly behind him.
Emory sat down on the bed next to me. “Listen to me, Tara,” he said. “You have to stay behind.”
“No,” I said. “I can’t. I’ve come so far. My parents are so close.”
“Listen to me,” he said, taking my face in his hands. “I’m going to leave you some money. Go buy a room here in this hotel. If we’re not back in two hours, or if you hear something in the direction of the nuclear plant, you get in that car and you don’t stop driving until you hit Mexico.”
“Emory,” I said, and it came out half a whisper.
“Stop, Tara,” he said firmly. “You have to do this. You said you’d follow orders, right?”
“I can’t lose you.”
He looked at me, and for the first time I felt like he was really seeing me.
His expression softened. His lips came near and brushed my cheek, stopping against my lips. I pressed myself into his kiss, grabbing his strong body, pushing myself against him.
We kissed like that for what felt like fifteen minutes. Slowly he pulled away, and I was left panting, gasping for air, desperate to feel him just a little bit longer.
“You won’t lose me,” he said. “I’m not going to let that happen.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Listen to me, Tara.” He took me by the hair and pulled me toward him, his lips brushing against my ear. “I fucking love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
He gently let me go, but I pulled myself against him again.
I held him like that until he finally moved back and stood.
“Emory—” I said, but he stopped me.
“Tell me when I get back.”
I bit my lip. “Okay.”
“I’ll see you soon. And remember, two hours unless you hear or see something.” He left a small wad of money on the television stand and then disappeared out the door.
I sat there staring after him for a few minutes. I tried to move, willed myself to go after him, but I knew I was doing the right thing. He was going somewhere I couldn’t follow, about to do something I couldn’t help with.
This last part was completely up to him.
And he loved me. The idea of that flowed through my body, giving me some of his strength. He loved, and I loved him too. That was the truth, always had been, from the second I saw him back at my door.
He’d come back to me. He was Emory Rush, SEAL captain.
He’d make things right and come back for me.
30
Emory
As Travis tore fast through the back streets, angling toward the power plant, I held the phone up to my ear.
“Blackfire,” he said.
“Sir, it’s Emory. We have reason to believe that The Network is attacking the power plant tonight.”
“Shit,” he said.
“Any ETA on that backup?”
“Your team is en route now, about three hours out. I have a gear specialist in the area.”
“Send him to us. Have him meet us on Highway Thirty, right next to exit twelve.”
“Got it,” he said.
“We can’t wait for the backup, sir. We’re going in.”
“Roger that, soldier. Good fucking luck to you both.”
“Thanks, sir.”
“Give them fucking hell.”
I hung the phone up and looked at Travis. “Hear that?”
“Exit twelve, got it. What’s there?”
“Weapons guy. We’ll gear up quick and then hit the plant.”
“Got it.” He paused. “Really think they’re hitting it tonight? They could have just left that spot.”
“It’s tonight,” I said. “I’m sure of it. My gut is screaming about it.”
“I know I always trust your gut.”
I grinned. “Never been wrong.”
We drove on, moving fast. Every second we wasted was a second closer Omar Hooth got to blowing up a nuclear power plant, and I couldn’t let that happen.
My mind drifted back to Tara as Travis passed exit six. I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on her face, the serious and intense worry. When I told her that I loved her, I wasn’t saying it to hear her say it back. I was saying it because I needed her to understand that I was coming back no matter what.
I loved her, and I wanted to be with her. I wanted to raise Mason, to hold him, to teach him how to be a man. I wasn’t running away from my responsibilities, wasn’t turning my back on my own son. Over the last few days I’d seen again and again how strong Tara was, and I’d realized how much she meant to me.
She was incredible. Her body, her lips, the way she fucked and sucked me. But more than that, I was amazed by the way she took care of Mason, by the way she tried to take care of everyone around her. She so easily could have gone running and never looked back, but instead she stuck through this.
I wanted that in my life. No, I fucking needed it. Every time I held Mason, I knew I was falling in love with him and his mother. Every time I looked at him, I knew I wanted to make sure he was taken care of, that I was always there for him and Tara.
I told her that I loved her because she had to know that I was coming home no matter what. I was coming home to her.
I knew what she was going to say back to me, but I didn’t want to hear it, because I wanted something to keep me going, something for me to look forward to. And fuck if I wasn’t looking forward to hearing her whisper in my ear how much she loved me as I fucked her tight cunt again and again.
Travis pulled the car off the road just before exit twelve. We moved back toward the tree line and killed the engine, waiting. About five minutes later, a second car pulled up behind us, this one a big black passenger van.
We stepped out of the car and walked toward it. The van doors opened and a short man, maybe five foot four at most, stepped out. He was round in the middle and balding, probably in his mid-sixties.
“They call me the Gun,” he said.
“Well, Mister Gun, I’m Emory.”
“Come on,” he grunted, and he led Travis and me to the back of his van. He threw the doors open and gestured inside. “Take what you want.”
I felt like a kid at a fucking candy store. The whole van was full of tactical equipment: rifles, pistols, silencers, grenades, vests, even a bazooka. It was the wildest arsenal I’d ever seen in my life, all packed into the back of this van.
Travis quickly selected a high-powered silencer sniper rifle. I picked out a smaller submachine gun with a silencer, an extra pistol, two hand radios for communication, and a belt of stun grenades.
“Fine choices,” Gun said as we stepped back out of the van.
“Thanks, Gun,” Travis said.
“Anything for America.”
We turned to leave, but Gun quickly ran in front of us.
“Hold on, hold on. One last treat. Here you go.” He held out a folded up map.
I took it. “This is?”
“The power plant. Blueprints. Heard you were going there, so I snatched these for you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Snatched?”
“Stole, whatever. Want them or not?”
I grinned at him. “Thanks.”
He nodded, turned, got back into his van, and then drove off.
“What a weird guy,” Travis said as we got back into the car.
“Contractors,” I mumbled. “We’re always outsourcing to contractors these days.”
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Travis laughed as he pulled back into traffic and we drove off to battle.
We left the car in an outcropping of trees about a half mile away from the power plant. We set off at a jog, heading closer and closer to the fencing line that surrounded the plant.
The night was clear and cool as we moved. Even weighed down with guns and gear, we still were moving at a pretty brisk pace. I guessed Omar couldn’t move as quickly as we could, since he was dragging along Tara’s parents and whoever else he had in his group.
That was the only advantage we had. They were stronger in numbers, though we were stronger in training. I had to hope that was going to be enough.
Soon we made it to the perimeter fence. It was tall and topped with barbed wire, though that didn’t always mean you couldn’t get in.
“Plan?” Travis asked.
“You head left; I’ll head right. Radio me if you find an entry point.”
“Roger.”
“Switch your radio to six.”
He nodded, fiddling with his radio. “Got it.”
“Radio if you find something.”
Travis melted into the darkness without another word.
I set out, sticking low and moving fast. I didn’t know if Omar was inside already or not, so splitting up was a risk. If we stumbled across Omar’s group, or if he had left guards behind, we might be at a huge disadvantage.
I couldn’t help but have nagging doubts. Alone in the dark, skirting along the fence, I kept thinking to myself how maybe I’d fucked up, maybe I’d picked the wrong target. But no, that picture in the motel had all but confirmed it for me. This was the only thing that made any sense.
And still, as I moved along the fence line and saw nothing, those nagging doubts ate at me. I couldn’t fuck this up. I couldn’t fail now when I’d never failed at a mission before. Granted, this was very, very different from any other mission I’d ever been on, but it was also the most important.
And then my radio cracked to life. “Captain, found a breach in the fence. Over,” Travis said.
“Stay there. On my way. Over and out.”
I clipped my radio to my belt and turned, heading back toward Travis at a fast jog, relief spreading through me. A few minutes later, I spotted him up ahead, crouched down next to the fence.