by Sean Black
She still looked skeptical, only now Byron couldn’t be sure whether she didn’t believe his story or whether she didn’t buy that someone from the State Department could have done something positive in a foreign country.
‘So when did it all go wrong?’ she asked.
He did his best to explain what he called, for lack of a better term, his eventual breakdown, following the death of a young girl in Afghanistan. Perhaps it was the emotional connection he still had to those events, or how it allowed him to relate the story to Thea with something approaching real emotion. Whatever it was, she was looking him in the eye, unblinking, with a sincerity to her reaction which matched that of his telling.
When he got to the part about digging a grave for the girl and the psychologist appearing, Thea reached over the table and put her hand on his. ‘I’m sorry, Byron.’
He looked down at her hand. Her touch sent a shiver through him that he struggled to suppress. She drew back but he reached out with his other hand and pulled hers back to where it had been. She let it stay there while he moved on to the facility.
He didn’t mention the neuro implant or the other surgeries. He just said, ‘It was a new technology they wanted to trial to see if they could help veterans with severe PTSD. It takes millions of dollars of training and years of experience to get someone to the level I was at. They didn’t just want to help me, they wanted to get me to a point where I’d be able to go back out into the field. As good as new, if not better.’
‘I never read about anything like that,’ she said.
‘You weren’t supposed to,’ Byron said. ‘Even the name of the project was likely to spook civilians.’
‘Why? What was it called?’
Byron finished his glass of wine. ‘The guilt-free-soldier program.’
Thea raised her eyebrows. ‘Guilt-free? Wow.’ She drew back her hand from his.
He tried to be as truthful as he could about the next part. About how the technology hadn’t worked. How it had made him more irrational, more violent. He left out the part about the gifts it had bestowed.
‘I hurt people, Thea,’ he said. ‘Innocent people. Not all of them were, but hurting one innocent person was still one too many.’
‘Then you ran?’
‘Yes.’
‘And your wife?’ Thea asked.
‘She was scared of me,’ he said. ‘I didn’t blame her. She had married one man and ended up with someone else.’
‘So how did you end up in Butthole, Texas?’ Thea said.
‘I was on my way somewhere else.’
‘Well,’ said Thea, ‘that is regarded as a pretty serious crime around here.’ She drained the last of the second bottle of wine into their glasses. She raised hers to her lips and began to laugh.
Byron looked at her. ‘What’s so funny?’ Not that he minded her laughing, quite the opposite. He just wasn’t sure they had much to laugh about.
‘Well, they’re going to run your details now, and when they do, they’re going to shit a brick.’
Byron reached back across the table. He grabbed her hand, trying to keep his touch light and the panic out of his voice. ‘They’ve run my details?’
She stared at him. ‘Maybe not now. But they will. They’re bound to after what happened today. Even if you turn round and tell the feds what’s been going on, your credibility is shot to hell.’
Byron’s head sank onto the table. Here he was thinking he’d been so slick with Mills, but all he’d achieved was to bring more heat on himself. The county sheriff might not be able to capture him, but he wouldn’t need to.
He felt Thea’s fingers running over his skull and down his neck. She stopped when she came to the long, grooved scar that was a reminder of the tracking device he’d had to cut from his own flesh with a knife. She traced it gently with the tips of her fingers. ‘Byron?’
He didn’t respond. Not at first.
‘Byron? You’re scaring me.’
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have asked for your help.’
‘Don’t you think it’s a little too late for regrets?’ said Thea.
67
Like the connection they felt, their lovemaking was urgent and raw. Byron suspected that Thea was, like him, someone who had built a wall around herself. It wasn’t that he lacked the physical urges of a normal man. It was more that, like the violence inside him, he was aware of what would happen if he let go. Like violence, sex for Byron could be dark and animalistic, a place of shadows and dark transgressions.
All that had been swept aside by Thea. As she touched him, stroking his neck and rubbing his back, her black hair had fallen over his face. He breathed in her perfume, savoring her own smell beneath it, and he was lost.
He turned his head and their eyes met for a lingering moment. Any pretense that had lain between them fell away. His hands moved up to cradle her face. He kissed her gently on the lips.
She returned his kiss with an urgency he hadn’t expected. Her tongue pushed beyond his lips to meet his. Her breasts crushed against his muscular chest. Her hands clawed at his clothes, pulling his T-shirt up and over his head.
He helped her take it off. They looked at each other. Byron sensed that what had just happened hung in the balance. Thea might withdraw, decide that this was a bad idea. If she did, she would be right. It was a bad idea. Without question.
‘It’s been a while,’ she said, with a smile, reaching down and starting to unbutton her blouse to reveal a lacy black brassière under which lay perfect coffee-brown breasts.
Byron reached up and helped the blouse over her shoulders. His lips fell to her neck. He took a long draw of her essence and began to kiss his way down her shoulder. His lips kept moving, pausing occasionally to savor her perfect caramel skin.
His right hand traced a path up from the small of her back. He unclasped her bra. She leaned towards him. He pulled the straps gently over her shoulders and pulled the rest of the fabric away.
He buried his head in her breasts. Starting with small butterfly kisses around her nipples, he nuzzled and licked until, in turn, they hardened.
Her hands clasped behind his head, pulling him in closer and guiding him to where she wanted his mouth to be. She moaned softly. ‘I want you inside me,’ she whispered in his ear.
Reaching down she began to unbutton his pants. His hand slid down to hitch up her skirt, then ran his hand all the way up the inside of her thigh. When he reached the top he found a burning hot wetness.
He pushed her panties to one side. She let out a gasp. He moved his hand away, teasing her.
She pushed her hand into his shorts.
‘Wait,’ he told her.
He kicked off his pants and shorts, reached both hands under her ass and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Her arms rested on his broad shoulders. Slowly, she slid down onto him.
With every inch of him inside her, Thea’s back arched. With his hands cupping her ass, Byron hoisted her up before lowering her again. Her nails dug into the back of his neck. He allowed her moans to set the pace as he thrust inside her.
Thea buried her face between his neck and his shoulder, as they kept moving together.
‘Take me into the bedroom,’ she said.
He carried her from the kitchen to the bedroom. He toed the door open and lowered her down onto the bed. She spread her legs wide and he went deep. She clung to him, her fingers running through his hair, her thighs pressing against his waist.
He kissed her, and grabbed her wrists, pinning them down on the bed. He could feel her tighten around him as he moved a little faster.
She came in a series of loud, shuddering waves, begging him not to stop. He took his time, moving more slowly, controlling himself as best he could. He let go of her wrists and they switched so that now she was atop him, her hands pinning him down. Her hair tumbled over his face. He reached up, caressing her neck. His hands ran over her shoulders and down her back. She squeezed her
self around him and began to rock back and forth. Her nails dug into his shoulders and chest.
She kept moving, her rhythm steady, and they came together in a hot rush. She collapsed on top of him and he wrapped his arms around her, keeping her close. Suddenly, he tensed. He’d heard a car outside.
Beyond the window, brakes squealed. Headlights swept across the bedroom. The beams were followed by a single whoop from a patrol car. A car door slammed shut.
68
Byron stood in a darkened room off the front hallway as Thea opened the door. Through a gap in the blinds he could see the officer standing on the front porch. He was pretty sure it was one of the cops who’d arrested him. The taller one.
‘Hey, Arlo, what can I do for you?’ Thea asked.
‘I saw your light on,’ said Arlo. ‘Figured I’d see if you were okay.’
‘That’s very considerate of you, but I’m fine. I was just going to bed.’
From his vantage-point, Byron watched as Arlo leaned in towards Thea, propping himself against the side of the door frame and resting the point of his boot between the door and the frame so that Thea would be unable to close it unless he moved.
‘The guy’s still out there. He’s a pretty dangerous character by all accounts,’ Arlo said. ‘Of course he was like a lamb when I arrested him. Knew better than to try anything.’
In the half-light, Byron smiled to himself. No doubt Arlo would be dining out on having arrested someone like Byron for years to come.
‘Well,’ Thea said, ‘if I see anything suspicious, I’ll call it in.’
‘You want me to take a look around before I go?’ Arlo asked. ‘You have that shed out back, don’t you? That could be the kind of place someone like him might hole up.’
‘Appreciate the offer, but it’s okay. If he was hiding out nearby I’m pretty sure I would have noticed by now.’
‘It’ll only take a minute,’ Arlo said, pushing past Thea. ‘It’s no trouble at all.’
Byron moved from the window and pressed himself against the wall that backed onto the hall as he heard Arlo walk into the hallway. He could hear the tension in Thea’s voice. It was a mixture of panic and annoyance at the unwarranted intrusion.
‘I really do have to go to bed now, Arlo,’ she was saying.
Byron saw a flash of police uniform as Arlo walked past the living-room door and down the hall towards the kitchen. That was bad news. The passion with Thea had been so sudden that cleaning up hadn’t been a consideration.
Thea’s footsteps hurried behind Arlo.
‘Look,’ she was saying, ‘if there was someone else here, I think I would have noticed by now.’
Byron heard the cop push open the kitchen door. The squeak of his footsteps came to a sudden stop.
‘Is that so?’ said Arlo.
‘This place is a mess. I haven’t had the chance to clean up.’
‘You career girls, not enough time in the day, huh?’ Arlo said. ‘Here, let me help you.’
There was the unmistakable sound of glasses clinking against each other. The two wine glasses on the table. They were still there. By the sound of it, Arlo had just picked them up.
‘There’s really no need,’ said Thea. ‘Now, I want to get some rest, so if you wouldn’t mind . . . I promise that if I see anything I’ll call it in.’
‘You had company, Thea?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘These here two glasses that were on the table.’
‘Oh, those,’ Thea said. ‘It’s been a long day. I must have got distracted and forgotten I already had a glass.’
Byron edged slowly along the wall towards the living-room door. He was trying to work out if he could make the front door before Arlo had time to draw his gun and get into the hallway.
‘Uh-huh,’ said Arlo. ‘You take off your lipstick between glasses too?’
Thea didn’t say anything to that. There was nothing to say.
‘Where is he?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t invite you into my home, and I’m asking you to leave.’
‘It’s a little too late for that,’ said Arlo. ‘Now you’d better tell me where he is.’
‘Where who is?’
‘Don’t be a smartass, Thea. You know who I’m talking about.’
There was anger in Thea’s voice now. ‘Get the hell out of my house, Arlo.’
‘You tell me where he is and I’ll leave it at that. You don’t and you’ll be looking at time.’
Thea laughed. ‘For what exactly? Having two empty wine glasses in my kitchen? Now, I won’t tell you again. Get the hell out of here.’
Byron decided to stay where he was for the time being. Maybe Thea would have enough righteous indignation to get the cop out of the front door.
Byron heard the unmistakable of handcuffs being unclipped from the cop’s belt. It was a sound he’d become more than familiar with over the past few weeks.
‘You have got to be kidding me, Arlo,’ Thea said. ‘You even think about arresting me and your career is over. Y’hear me?’
‘Turn around, Thea. Hands behind your back. I’m arresting you for harboring a fugitive.’
‘Go fuck yourself,’ Thea shouted at Arlo.
There was the sound of a scuffle.
‘Turn around!’
‘Get your hands off me, you asshole.’
‘I’m not playing. Turn around or I’ll Taser you. You hear me?’
Byron tensed at the mention of the Taser. He took a deep breath and tried to clear his head. Arlo obviously had no idea that he was as close as he was. If he did he would have called for back-up. Either he thought Byron had already fled, or he actually believed his own bluster about Byron somehow being intimidated by him when he was arrested. It was hard to believe that anyone could be that stupid but the male ego was a wonderful thing.
‘You’re hurting me,’ Thea said.
‘Well, don’t struggle.’
There was the ratcheting click of the cuffs being snapped around Thea’s wrists.
‘See? We don’t have to fight,’ Arlo said.
‘You patronizing asshole,’ Thea shot back.
Byron snuck a peek around the doorframe. He could see a sliver of the kitchen. Thea was facing the rear window, her back to the cop.
Byron would wait until Arlo went to put Thea in his patrol car, which he would undoubtedly do before coming back in to search the house, and make a run for it through the back door. Arlo would find an empty house. He ducked back into the living room and waited.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Thea said.
It was hard to catch Arlo’s response. His voice was low and as quiet as a whisper.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Thea repeated, this time with panic in her voice.
Byron caught what Arlo said next.
‘I see the way you look at me, Thea. This whole front you put up. How you talk to me. I know what it means.’
‘Take your goddamn hand away, Arlo.’
Byron stepped back into the hallway. Looking into the kitchen he saw Thea still pinned against the sink. The cop was running his hand up between her legs.
‘Don’t fight it, Thea,’ Arlo said, his other hand reaching up, grabbing her hair and pulling it hard enough to snap her neck back and make her scream.
For a second Byron struggled to process what he was witnessing. The second passed. He started down the hallway towards the kitchen, the Glock punched out ahead of him.
69
Lauren’s stomach churned as she climbed the steps of the Cessna Citation CJ4. The backdraft from a C-130 military transport plane taxiing down the opposite runway whipped her hair across her face. She pushed back the rogue strands and ducked into the cabin. The rest of the team were taking their seats, ready for the short flight down to Texas.
A four-man kill team sat together at the back. They had broken out a pack of playing cards and seemed completely relaxed. All four were drawn from various branches of t
he military and were veterans of numerous missions around the world. They had been selected not just because they were extremely capable but because they could be relied upon to take the knowledge of a mission like this to the grave with them.
Lauren settled into her seat, popped open her laptop, and reviewed the intelligence that had prompted the flight. It was frustrating beyond belief. Tibor had been in jail in Texas for weeks but for some inexplicable reason had only popped up on the official radar when he had broken out.
Nick Frinz hustled down the aisle and flopped into the seat next to her. She’d been hoping he might not make the flight.
‘Finally found him, huh?’ he said.
‘Not yet.’
‘Come on,’ said Frinz. ‘Where’s he gonna go?’
70
‘Don’t kill me.’
Byron had to pick out the words between Arlo’s sobs. He had already taken Arlo’s service weapon, Taser, and the small back-up gun that had been hidden in an ankle holster on the cop’s right leg.
The Glock was pressed into the back of Arlo’s neck. For good measure, and to ensure full compliance, Byron had the wrist of Arlo’s right hand bent back close to fracture point. That wasn’t the reason for his sobs, though. They both knew that, given what Byron had just witnessed, there was every chance that Arlo might not survive the next few moments.
Byron would feel no guilt for killing a cop who had been about to rape a woman he had just handcuffed. Byron glanced at Thea. She was sitting at the kitchen table. Her hands shook as she struggled to light a cigarette. Mascara ran down her cheeks. She hadn’t offered any opinion on what Byron should do next. He wasn’t about to ask her. Not because he wouldn’t have gone along with what she wanted, but because she had enough trauma to process without this asshole’s death or survival in her head. If she wanted to give Byron the thumbs-up or -down that was her decision to make. But right now Byron was happy to fulfill all three roles of judge, jury and, if need be, executioner.
There was no doubt in Byron’s mind that Arlo would have raped Thea. For that, in Byron’s opinion, he had forfeited his right to life. But there were other considerations. The cop (although it was an insult to the good men and women who did this job that Arlo had the badge and the title that went with it) could die now. Or he could die later. The only question was which would better serve Byron’s chances of escape, and Thea’s safety.