by C. J. Miller
A great weekend. A great memory. Not a great place to revisit. But it was safe, off the beaten path and it would take time for whoever was looking for them to find Connor’s cabin. Like with most everything the man did, Connor would have seen that the records wouldn’t be easily traceable.
“I want to involve as few people as possible. Connor’s place will work for now,” Brady said, shoving aside memories of Susan in his arms. This wasn’t the right time or place to reminisce. They were lingering on treacherous emotional territory.
Susan brushed her hair over her shoulder. Her hand was shaking. “I guess that’s the best option at the moment.”
He’d made the right call stopping the kiss, but he wasn’t sure if he’d made the right call in starting it. “I’ll pack some food. See if you can find boots and a jacket.”
Brady left Susan alone in the closet. He’d keep his distance, even if that became more difficult by the second. Brady grabbed a few more items and then returned to the kitchen to get some food. He threw his wet clothes into a plastic bag and made sure he hadn’t left anything behind. Taking a few things and borrowing Reilly’s home was one thing. Leaving evidence he’d been inside was another.
Ten minutes later, Susan appeared in the kitchen. She’d brushed her hair into a ponytail. “I hope they don’t mind if we take their food.” Susan pressed a hand over her stomach.
“They’ll understand. They’re stocked,” Brady said. “We’ll drive about ten miles from here away from Winter Park. We’ll drop my truck and use Haley’s car.” The more false leads he could give the people looking for them, the better.
They loaded Haley’s car and Susan drove it out of the garage. Brady got into his truck. They left it, with his cell phone inside, at a bus terminal parking lot, and then he and Susan switched places so he could drive to Connor’s cabin.
Susan opened a box of cereal. She also had a slip of paper on her lap.
“What are you writing?” he asked.
“Keeping track of what we owe our friends.”
That list would be extensive. Aside from the material things they took, Reilly’s discretion would be priceless. “Reilly isn’t a friend. He’s family.”
Susan shrugged. “He and Haley are friends to me. They’re returning home to a storm of crap including having their house broken into and Haley’s car having gone missing.”
It wouldn’t be the first time the Truman family was involved in a difficult, dangerous situation. His mother was former CIA and his father was an ex-Navy SEAL. It was in his and his brothers’ blood to deal with complex, risky situations. “Reilly knows I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe and clear his name. He’d be madder if I didn’t use the resources at my disposal. And we didn’t break in. They left the door open.”
Family loyalty defined the Truman family. His family was strong and steady, each member devoting their lives to protecting others. The contrast between their lives and his made it worse for Brady. He hated that he was weak. He had failed in his duty to his country and he had let his team down. He couldn’t disappoint Susan, as well.
* * *
“We need to get our hands on some cash,” Brady said.
Susan’s heart sank. Getting cash had an ominous sound to it. They couldn’t walk into a bank or ATM and withdraw from their accounts. It was risky and the men looking for them could probably monitor their accounts for activity. “I’m not committing another crime. I don’t care how deep we’re into this, I’m not mugging an old woman, or breaking into a house, or holding up a bank.”
Brady lifted his brows at her. “I’m not suggesting that. You know me better. I have a sack stash near the library.”
“A what?” she asked.
“I have an emergency kit stashed away. When I was working overseas, it was a good idea to have reserves available in case I returned and needed to lay low for a while. I was occasionally assigned tasks that were sensitive in nature and I needed a way to stay out of the limelight.”
She stared at him for a moment, processing what he was saying. “Reserves?”
“Yup.”
“How many do you have?” she asked.
“Several here. Some in other key locations.”
More questions came to mind. What work had he been doing with the air force that might require him to stay under the radar for periods of time?
“We need the money and we don’t have alternatives. I don’t know how we’re being tracked, but we are,” Brady said.
Was someone following them now? “How will we get to your stash? And are you serious?” Susan asked.
“I’m serious. It’s in a covert location. I couldn’t risk someone stumbling on it accidentally. Too many questions. Too many logistics.”
Another glimpse into the work Brady had done overseas. Dangerous work. Work that could require he disappear for a time. He’d been all in, hadn’t he? Whenever he talked about his work, his pride was obvious, but he was light on details. “You’ve never mentioned this before.”
Brady lifted his shoulder as if working out a cramp. “It wasn’t important at the time. It’s important now. I won’t be using them for work anymore. I thought about retrieving them sooner, but my parents taught me to be prepared. Turns out that was good advice,” Brady said.
“Nice thinking,” Susan said. Reilly had told stories about the Truman family and how they prepared and planned for their safety. She had never pictured Brady doing something so...paranoid. Then again, she couldn’t call it paranoid since it would help them.
They drove to the Denver City Park and parked the car. It backed to the Denver City Library.
“Keep your head down. At this hour, I can think of two types of people in the park. People looking for trouble and people causing trouble,” Brady said, climbing out of the car.
Susan followed close. “If you’re trying to blend, why don’t you slow down and move at a leisurely pace?” His long stride made it difficult to keep up and not look as if she was running beside him.
The park wasn’t crowded, although a couple was walking their dog and several other people moved through the park, heads down, hoods up. The lights from the overhead lamps cast shadows across the ground.
“Let’s make this fast,” Brady said. “The less people who see us, the better.”
“Where is it?” she asked.
“Buried.”
“How are you planning to get to it?” she asked. They didn’t have any tools and they could be spotted. What if the police were making rounds through the park and questioned them? Could they tell the truth about what they were doing?
Obtaining the stash pack couldn’t be simple. What if the ground was frozen? How had Brady marked the exact spot where he’d left it? What if someone else had found it? Worries torpedoed through her.
“I’m planning to dig it out,” Brady said.
Brady stumbled and grabbed Susan’s arm to catch himself. He winced and met her gaze. She read the tension in his jaw and the pain in his eyes. His knee again. She wouldn’t say anything about it. Not now. The sensation when his eyes connected with hers spoke loudly enough.
She was there for him like he’d been for her.
The permanence of that statement was undecided, but for now, each other was all they had.
The library was in sight and Brady stopped. Susan clasped his arm. “Here?”
“I need to orient myself with the landmarks. This isn’t easy in the dark,” Brady said. He picked up a branch and a rock from the ground and counted the trees outside. He moved back and forth several times, his limp noticeable. “I got it.”
He shuffled into a thin copse of trees. Avoiding low branches and pine needles, Brady stopped behind a large tree with a thick trunk. He knelt down, winced and began digging with the stick. The ground was cold and frozen and progress was
slow. He shifted his weight several times and extended his injured leg. Brady lost his balance and fell backward, knocking his head on the trunk of a nearby tree.
“Brady!” Susan knelt next to him, helping him to sit up. “Are you okay?”
Brady rubbed the back of his head. “My balance is off. I haven’t eaten enough. Let’s get this done and get out of here.”
His clipped tone indicated he didn’t want to discuss it further. He was in worse shape than he was letting on. Would he admit it if he needed to rest?
Susan pressed her lips together, wishing she could ask questions about his injury without making him more defensive. “Can I do anything to help?” To help him dig or to help with his knee? The additional question would hurt his pride.
“We need to chip away at the frozen dirt.”
Susan glanced over her shoulder to check that no one was watching. The trees blocked most of the light from the street lamps, good for hiding, but bad for seeing what they were doing.
“I’ll try using the rock,” she said.
They scratched at the ground, working away the frozen chunks of earth. Susan looked around again, feeling someone watching them. She didn’t see anyone. They were alone in the small forest. She shivered, expecting someone to jump out from the shadows.
They dug for more than an hour before a piece of string appeared. Brady reached into the hole and whipped the string left and right, breaking the dirt and drawing it up. More help from the stick and it was free.
He slid the package under his arm. “Let’s get out of here.” He struggled to his feet and kicked dirt into the hole.
Did he have everything they needed? He didn’t check the contents. Would he be able to walk to the car or was his knee too stiff? She slipped his hand over her shoulder, pretending she wanted the warmth. He could lean on her and she could help if he lost his balance again. The smoldering sensation of being tucked at his side slid over her body. He was holding on to her for a practical reason, but her emotions couldn’t discern the difference. Feelings she’d stifled sprang to life and she rested her head against his shoulder. How could a relationship that felt so right in one way be such a painful disaster?
They walked toward their car, heads down. Susan’s heart beat rapidly, her body too warm from their digging and leaning against Brady, her hands, feet and face cold from the winter air.
What if they were stopped? What was in that canvas bag? Wads of cash would make them look guilty. How could Brady explain where they’d gotten it?
“Hey, you!”
Susan froze, but Brady hugged her closer. “Don’t stop. Keep walking,” Brady said under his breath.
“Hey, you, you dropped something.”
A voice she didn’t recognize. The sound of footsteps approaching faster had Brady swearing under his breath. “Let me handle this.”
Brady dropped his arm from her shoulders and turned. The loss of contact gave her a moment to regain her emotional composure. Susan pinned her eyes to the ground, letting loose strands of dark hair fall over her face. Her face had been on the news in connection with Justin’s death, but the lighting here was poor. Was it enough to prevent her from being recognized?
“You dropped this,” the man said, extending his hand, giving Brady a glove.
“Thanks. Must have slipped from my pocket. Have a good one,” Brady said. He turned away, giving the man his shoulder.
“Wait, do I know you? You look familiar,” the man said.
“I have one of those faces,” Brady said. He took Susan’s arm. “We’ve got to haul out of here.”
They walked faster. The fewer people who recognized them, the more difficult they’d be to trace. Otherwise, they’d leave a trail for the men who wanted her dead to follow.
* * *
Once they were in the car, Brady handed Susan the canvas bag. His knee was throbbing and stiff from working in the dark for an hour. He needed a hot soak and a deep tissue massage. At the rate things were going, he wouldn’t get either.
“Open it,” he said.
Susan did so and gasped at the contents. “What is this?”
It was self-explanatory, but maybe Susan couldn’t believe he had made these preparations. “Stuff I need to stay under the radar for a few months.” Working in special operations required his silence about where he worked and the specifics of what he did. He sometimes overheard top secret mission information, sometimes worked in volatile parts of the world and sometimes had to complete tasks knowing little about the big picture. It was part of the job description and one he’d accepted and been discreet about as needed.
He and Susan both needed to disappear for a while. Brady had no delusions that the people stalking Susan would give up. They wouldn’t stop looking for her until Brady shut them down.
“You have a gun in here,” she said.
“I know,” he said.
“Please take it.”
He reached across to her lap and took the gun. He checked the safety and set it next to him. It hadn’t been serviced in some time, but it would have to do for now. He cursed his luck in losing his original gun in the water at the marina. Another mistake he’d made and one that could have dire consequences.
“Why do you have these things? Is it legal to have a fake ID and credit cards and this much cash?” Susan asked.
Legal, yes, in a sense. “I told you. I was assigned to difficult and complex missions overseas. If things went wrong and I had to return covertly to the United States while the dust settled, I needed supplies. I planned to stay in an area familiar to me, but keep myself untraceable.”
Susan was turning the identification over in her hand. “This looks real.”
“It is real. It was created using the same equipment the DMV uses.” He’d gotten most of the contents of the pack from his superiors in the Air Force. The cash, that was his. The credit cards could be traced by the military, and if he had to disappear, Brady wanted to do so on his terms.
“If something had gone wrong and you had to hide out under a different name, how long would you live that way?” Susan asked.
“Worst case scenario, indefinitely. Best case, a few weeks,” Brady said. He was no longer in that line of work and lying wasn’t necessary. His backup identity wasn’t classified any longer. It pained him to think about it. His work had been a source of great pride and meaning in his life. What did he have now? A dead career, a weakened body and the personal life of a hermit.
Susan had gone still. “You’re saying you could have disappeared without a word and I would have been left wondering where you were.” Her voice was calm and cold, and anger tinged the edges of her words.
Disappearing for a period of time wasn’t his ideal scenario. Losing contact with family and friends would have been difficult and Brady would have only taken that option as a last resort. “That’s one way to look at it. If they couldn’t safely get me out of it, the air force would have told you I was dead,” he said.
Susan gritted her teeth. “Oh, well, that would have been much better.”
It had occurred to him how unfair it was to her. It was a huge part of the reason he’d broken up with her. Did she see that he’d been trying to do right by her, to give her a chance for the life she wanted?
“I knew how difficult my job would be when I took it. It would be hard on my family, my friends and anyone who relied on me.”
Susan scoffed. “What a load of crap.”
Her anger incensed him. Was she calling him out for his dedication and devotion to his country? He prided himself on being loyal, true and courageous.
“What is a load of crap?” he asked. He sensed this was a fight that had been brewing for some time.
Susan threw the contents of the stash pack on the floor of the car. “You loved your job. You loved everything about it. It
was a bonus that you had an excuse to be free to do as you pleased without commitment, without considering anyone else.”
Now it was his turn to call crap. He had considered how his friends or family would feel if he disappeared and they were told he was dead. It had bothered him to think of what his mother, his father, his brothers and Susan would have to live through.
“You have no right to judge what I did or what choices I made. I made a sacrifice for my country and it wasn’t an easy one. How can you say I’m selfish? That I only care about myself? What am I doing now? Only looking out for number one? No! I’m here. With you. Putting my life and my integrity on the line to keep you safe. If I’m such an inconsiderate jerk, why would I have bothered with you or with any of this?” Hot rage coursed through him. She didn’t see it. She didn’t see how much he’d cared then and how much he cared now.
Long seconds passed. Finally, Susan spoke. “You’re right. I don’t know what you were thinking and you made a tremendous sacrifice for our country. I should have seen it sooner. I should have known you were a man who put his career first. I should have seen it coming.”
She was bothered by how he’d ended their relationship. How could he make it right? Rehashing the past wouldn’t help either of them and they’d skated around it enough. Addressing the heat between them by kissing her hadn’t helped. Brady had closed the door on the past and his mistakes. He didn’t like to think about his injury or his last tour with the air force. Resentment and frustration reignited whenever he did. He didn’t like to think about losing her as part of his life. He had to live with the choices he’d made. “We’ve moved past it. We have other problems to worry about.” They needed to focus on finding out who was chasing them and why, and stop them.
“We do have other problems,” she agreed. It sounded as if she had more to say, but she remained quiet.