Surviving Today

by Mande Chambers

  Scott couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer, coughing into his hand in a sad attempt to cover it up. “Here’s the million dollar question. Loaded or unloaded?”

  “The father in me wanted it loaded, but the cop in me overrode that instinct and went with the fear factor only, leaving it unloaded.”

  “Good call.”

  Derrick sighed, swiping a hand over his shaved blonde hair. “I know. He really is a good kid. I blame it on hormones and my long hours.” Cassi snorted. Her father shot her a warning look. “That’s okay, though, because it looks like Cassi and I will have plenty of time to spend together now that she is grounded from everything and everyone for the foreseeable future.”

  “I hate you!” she yelled as she stomped back up the stairs. “You’re ruining my life!” Her bedroom door slammed, shaking the frame so hard the windows rattled.

  Derrick cringed.

  Scott laughed even harder.

  “Dude, if we thought teenage girls were psychotic when we were that age, being the father of one has taught me that we only scratched the surface of their insanity back then. Holy hell.”

  Scott followed his friend into the kitchen. Derrick motioned for him to sit at the breakfast bar as he pulled two beers from the fridge.

  Sliding one towards Scott, Derrick uncapped his bottle and took a long drag. “So… What brings you to my neck of the woods? And what the hell happened to your face?”

  Scott inwardly groaned, uncapping his own brew. He took a long swing. Shit. He had completely forgotten about the bruise around his right eye and the bruise along his jawline. He was so exhausted, he didn’t even feel the pain anymore.

  It was too late to heal himself. Might as well fess up to what happened.

  “I, uh, had a run in with some old friends that weren’t too happy to see me. I refused to take a meeting and we didn’t exactly end things on a peaceful note.”

  Derrick winced. “How bad was the carnage?”

  Scott shrugged. “Not as bad as you think. No blood was drawn on my end. I did, however, end up with a hypodermic needle in my neck and a nice nap, though. That was in between fights, by the way.”

  Derrick raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid to ask who you refused to meet with, but now I have to know.”

  “General Yves.”

  Derrick coughed as his beer went down the wrong pipe. “I’m sorry. Do you mind repeating that? I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

  “There is absolutely nothing wrong with your hearing and we both know it.”

  “True. Okay, so let me get this straight then. You refused to meet with him and all you got was a couple of bruises and a drug induced cat nap?”

  Scott studied the Formica counter top. Well, that wasn’t exactly all he had gotten out of it. How the hell did he explain that Annelise was involved in this whole snafu and what was going on back east without opening a whole can of worms that was better left sealed and forgotten?

  Derrick set his beer down on the counter. His friend’s silence spoke volumes. “Okay, let’s start with something simple. What happened after you refused to take the initial meeting with the general from the third circle of hell?”

  August 3rd

  Washington, D.C.

  “Next round is on me.”

  Scott groaned and looked up as Jay Beres slid into the booth across from him. Jay slid a bottle of Bud Light in his direction, lifting his bottle in a silent toast.

  Scott eyed him and inspected the unopened bottle warily. Satisfied with his inspection, he twisted the top off, lifting the bottle towards Jay in acknowledgement to the other man’s silent toast. He took a long swig. Setting the bottle down on the table, he asked, barely containing the annoyance in his voice, “What are you doing here, Beres?”

  “What?” Jay asked innocently, taking a long swallow of his own beer. “Can’t a guy just randomly drop in on an old friend?”

  Scott raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his section of booth. “Okay, I’m pulling the bullshit flag early in the play. First of all”—he motioned between the two of them with one hand—“you and I have never fallen into the friend category. Acquaintance is even stretching it a bit too far. People who know one another on any kind of level don’t do what you did.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Second of all, it isn’t randomly dropping in on ‘an old friend’ if said friend is sitting alone in a hole in the wall bar by himself on a Saturday night. Let’s throw into the mix, just for the hell of it, the fact that the city said ‘friend’ is in is one that he is visiting and no one is supposed to know that he is in town, let alone at previously mentioned bar.”

  Jay shrugged, picking at the label on his beer. “It’s not my fault we ended up at the same bar, on the same night. It’s not like you’re exactly going out of your way to hide yourself from prying eyes.”

  Scott narrowed his eyes, adjusting the bill of his black baseball cap. “You may want to try that again. Your delivery was a bit weak. I give you a solid C on effort, but you get a big, fat F when it comes to conviction.” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. “C’mon, Beres. We both know the only way you found me is because somewhere between Florida and D.C. someone Lojacked me. And the only reason you approached me is because you are following orders like the good little doggie you are. God forbid you go against your masters’ orders. If it was left up to you, you’d still be sulking in a dark corner, your tail between your legs, avoiding me like the plague out of fear.”

  Jay arched an eyebrow. “Sounds about right, insult notwithstanding.”

  Scott drained the rest of his beer in one swallow. “So, here’s how I figure it. We can do this one of two ways. Option number one. I can give you five seconds to tell me where the chip is located. You tell me where it is like the wuss you are and you get to leave in one piece, off to tell your boss he can go fuck himself for me.” Scott paused, folding his arms on the edge of the table. “Or you can choose option number two, but we both know you’re not going to willingly choose the pain you know will come your way. So, let’s just go with option one and get this over with.”

  Jay studied the table, chewing on his bottom lip. Scott had him and he knew it. Scott also thought the man was still afraid of him, as he should be, so he wasn’t really pushing this meeting as hard as he could be.

  “Before I answer, is that a direct quote I’m supposed to give the general, or can I adlib it?”

  “As long as you get the point across to him that I no longer ask how high when he says jump nor do I drop everything and come running because he got a bug up his ass and bellowed, I could honestly care a less what you tell the old man.”

  Jay nodded. “Fair enough. You were flagged the second you bought your ticket and you were tagged before you left Orlando International. The locator was attached to your license when you showed it to the TSA agent at the security check point.”

  Jay looked up, swore, and drained the rest of his beer. “You had to have known this was going to happen when you bought that ticket. This honestly can’t come as a surprise to you.”

  Scott turned in his seat to see what had Jay swearing like a drunken sailor. He let out a string of his own interesting curses as he watched Logan Piperel and Brian Halia saunter towards their table like they owned the place. “No, Beres. None of this comes as a surprise to me,” he muttered as he turned back around. He arched an eyebrow. “Seriously? You brought back up?”

  Jay swiped a hand over his shaved red hair, ending the movement at the nape of his neck. “Nope. I had no idea they were here. I guess General Yves isn’t taking no for an answer.”

  Scott sighed, reminding himself to stay calm and to not put up a fight. There were civilians, innocents, here and there was no need to get anyone unnecessarily hurt.

  Scott flipped Brian off and waved at Logan.

  Brian punched him in the eye and Logan jabbed him in the neck with a syringe at the same time.

  “What the hell?” he demanded.

  “That
was for Miami,” Brian explained.

  Fair enough. Scott glared expectantly at Logan.

  “Orders from the general,” Logan added.

  “Figures. He could have just asked,” Scott muttered, rubbing his neck as the world began to swim.

  “He did,” Jay pointed out as he slid out of the booth. “Multiple times. Let’s get him out of here guys.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Colstrip, MT

  Scott pulled himself out of the memory as Derrick’s phone vibrated on the counter. He looked down at it, swore, and mouthed “work” as he picked it up, disappearing into the other room.

  Someone chose that exact moment to knock on the back door. Not missing a beat, Scott jumped up and pulled the door open.

  “Evans, what the hell are you doing here?” he demanded incredulously, stepping aside to let Corbin Evans in from the chilly night air.

  Evans stomped his feet, dusting off his jacket with his good arm. “Looking for you,” he replied simply, stepping out of his muddy boots.

  “How did you know I was here?” Scott helped him out of his light windbreaker, hanging it on the hook beside the door.

  Corbin adjusted the blue sling holding his left arm to his chest and raised an eyebrow. “How do you think?”

  “Son of a bitch! Really? Again?”

  Corbin laughed. “Nah. I just wanted to make you sweat a little. After what happened last night, I knew you’d run off to Lavi for perspective, as awkward as that may be given the current situation.”

  Scott sighed a sigh relief. “Okay, I can live with that. Not that I revel in the fact that I am so obviously predictable.” He dropped back into his seat at the breakfast bar, looking in the direction of the living room in a quick check to see if Derrick was still occupied.

  Corbin followed his line of sight as he sat at the kitchen table. “That’s probably the precinct letting him know that they have his girlfriend down there. She was brought in by DHS for questioning.” He paused, studying Scott. “You have no idea who his girlfriend is, do you?”

  Scott shook his head, looking at Corbin funny. “No, I don’t. Should I? And what would Homeland Security want with his girlfriend?”

  “Dude, they pulled Megan the second she stepped off the plane at Logan. The only reason she got a ride back into town from Billings was because they felt it was in their best interest to bring her somewhere they knew she’d be forced to behave.”

  Scott stared at Corbin like the man had lost his mind. “Is that supposed to mean something to me? Words are coming out of your mouth, but all I hear is a bunch of useless sounds. So, his girlfriend’s name is Megan? Once again, why is DHS interested?”

  Evans dropped his head onto the table. “Oh. My. God. Are you kidding me? Freaking genius and he can’t connect the dots that are right in front of him, making two plus two equal four. It’s not like I’m asking him to solve world hunger here. This so better be a case of major denial, because, if it isn’t, I’m going to be forced to revoke his Mensa membership,” Corbin muttered into the wood.

  “Are you done talking to yourself yet or should I leave you alone with yourself?”

  Corbin lifted his head. “Let’s see if I can break this down to a level you can understand. Scott, Derrick has been dating Nox for the last two years,” he said slowly, like he was talking to a small child. He must have noticed the light bulb suddenly click on over Scott’s head, along with the look of pure unadulterated horror on his face that accompanied it, because he continued. “She didn’t even make it halfway down the walkway before they nabbed her. You know, on her way back from D.C…with her identification from last night still on her…”

  He looked at Scott expectantly.

  The world stopped rotating on its axis for a moment. Derrick was dating Megan? The Megan he had been mentioning in random e-mails over the past few years was that Megan?

  You had to give him some credit here. Megan was a fairly common female name.

  Derrick was dating Annelise?

  Well, hell. This visit just got a hell of a lot more awkward.

  Wait a minute…

  Scott’s head snapped up. “She got nabbed with what identification exactly, Evans?”

  “Ah, there he is. Welcome back.”

  Scott shot him a dirty look. “And why would Homeland Security bring her to a middle of nowhere precinct instead of the nearest federal building? Getting her to play nice isn’t hard with the right tools and motivation. They didn’t need to bring her back here.”

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed all of that. Or thought about it at all. Nice of you to finally catch up to the rest of the class.” Corbin looked everywhere but Scott.

  “You didn’t answer the question, Evans.”

  Corbin shifted in his chair. “She got busted with her original identification. Her valid military I.D. with her real name on it.”

  “Shit.”

  “Exactly.”

  “That’s just awesome. Really. Things can’t possibly get worse from here.”

  “That was an interesting phone call,” Derrick cut in as he walked back into the room. He stopped dead in his tracks. He looked from Scott to Corbin, back to Scott, then back to Corbin, his mouth slightly ajar. “What brings you my way, Evans? And what the hell happened to you? The two of you are an accident waiting to happen, I swear.”

  Corbin adjusted his sling uncomfortably, squirming a bit in his seat. “Megs proved that three years hiding her head in the sand, pretending the real world doesn’t exist, hasn’t affected her aim one bit,” he muttered under his breath. At Derrick’s raised eyebrow, he added louder, “Caught a knife to the shoulder last night. A surprise run-in with some old friends took a wrong turn.”

  “Yeah, Scott tried a similar story on me about the bruises on his face.”

  Scott shot Corbin a warning look. “So, what was so interesting about that call, Rick?” he asked, changing the subject before Derrick caught on to what Corbin had really just said.

  Derrick leaned a shoulder against the wall. “That was one of my officers. Apparently, Megan…”

  Scott flinched involuntarily at the mention of her name and earned an amused look from Corbin. Scott studied his hands on top of the counter.

  Derrick cleared his throat and continued. “Megan was brought into the station by some agents from DHS and dumped into an empty interrogation room. The agents ordered my on duty officer to call me to let me know she was there, stating in no uncertain terms that no one was to enter the interrogation room until I arrived. My officer says Megan looks like she was recently in a fight…” He let the sentence trail off.

  Scott and Corbin exchanged knowing looks.

  Scott looked over at Derrick and suddenly wished he hadn’t. Derrick was looking back and forth between him and Corbin, a look of utter confusion on his face.

  “Anyway,” Derrick continued, “that isn’t even the most interesting part. The interesting part is that the only other people authorized to see her are a Lieutenant Reece Whitfield and a Staff Sergeant Corbin Evans.”

  Corbin and Scott look at one another, the same look of dread on their faces. Oh, this wasn’t good. This was about to get downright ugly.

  Derrick looked from Corbin to Scott, making sure to look both of them directly in the eyes. The look of confusion slipped from his face and was replaced with a look Scott knew all too well.

  Determination.

  Derrick knew something was up. The agents had used Scott’s real name, along with his rank. Derrick now knew that he was connected to Megan somehow. Scott could see the smoke coming out of his friend’s ears as the hamster worked overtime to figure this all out.

  “The funny thing about that is, I happen to have two marines by those exact names sitting in my kitchen, looking at me like a kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Both of you just happen to show up for a spur of the moment visit, looking like you lost a fight with a grizzly bear, shortly after my girlfriend’s plane touches down from a business
trip out of town. You just happen to be discussing DHS as I get off the phone from being informed she is in that same agency’s custody.” He paused, assessing their reactions. “See where I’m going with this?”

  Oh, yeah. Scott was reading him loud and clear. The man couldn’t have made himself clearer if he had taken out a billboard.

  Way to go jackass. You jinxed yourself.

  Him and his stupid mouth. Of course it could get worse. She was back in his life. It always went to hell in a hand basket when their paths crossed.

  “I swear to God, Rick, my stopping by was purely coincidental,” Scott said quickly, raising his hands in surrender. “I honestly had no idea this was going to go down.”

  Since one of the proverbial cats was already on its way out of the bag, he might as well go for broke and voice what was on both his and Corbin’s mind, Derrick in the room or not.

  Scott looked at Corbin, lowering his hands. “They’re not from DHS if they are dropping our names like we’re A list celebrities to cops in some Podunk town.” He chanced a sideways glance at Derrick. “No offense, man.”

  “None taken.”

  Corbin nodded. “That’s what I’m thinking. This sounds more like a ploy to get at you two again after your little disappearing act last night. That was some trick, by the way. Houdini is turning over in his grave, green with envy.”

  “You’re one to talk, Evans. You didn’t exactly stick around to see what they had planned for the after party, either,” Scott pointed out

  “Raleigh, I spent an unknown amount of time tied to the ‘oh, shit’ handle, with no hope of escape, while she was handcuffed beside me. She was in a very sarcastic, somewhat homicidal, mood. And what does she do to repay me for silently listening to her incessant bitching and moaning? The moment we are liberated from our cuffs and in the same space again, she throws a knife at me.” He shot Scott a disbelieving look. “What the hell did you expect me to do? Stick around long enough to see if she was pissed off enough to finish the job? You’ve lost your damn mind if you think I was going to go that route. I’ll gladly leave the insanity that comes out to play around her to you.”