by Angi Morgan
“Yes, it does present a challenge that needs a complex solution. And yet I’ve dealt with complicated problems before, if you recall.”
“Not like this.”
“My dear, why do you continually doubt my ability? Didn’t you say that the last time we faced an adversary?”
“Getting rid of two Texas Rangers is not the same as the Department of Homeland Security. Why would they send a man undercover into our operation, anyway?”
Explaining oneself was the tedious part of working with expendable assets. Yet sometimes it was necessary to ease their minds and clue them in to the big picture, as someone once reminded him. He might be able to see several moves ahead, but he did have a propensity to forget others could not.
“I’ll begin with your question. One small reminder, Patrice, that Homeland is in charge of our borders. We have outwitted them on several occasions regarding our gun trade. And we are a major drug supplier in the south. Soon to be number one, I might add. Therefore, it makes perfect sense for DHS to weasel an operative into our business.”
“Can’t you stop talking down to me, Mr. Rook? I get all that. I’m not a dummy.” Patrice guzzled the remainder of the California pinot noir.
She might not be a “dummy” about certain components of their business dealings, but when it came to wine, she needed a great deal of schooling. After four years of her visits, he didn’t bother any longer. “I meant no offense, dear.”
“Just spell it out. We’ve been lucky. I just want to keep that trend trending.”
Luck? Dozens of plans had been considered and one had been carefully chosen, then manipulated into action. There had been no luck involved.
“The Texas Rangers were out of the picture for almost four years because of one of my simple plans, as you referred to it.” He sat at board number two, wanting the intricately carved pieces to fill his vision instead of Patrice’s continual pacing around the room. “Once they reappeared, they were distracted with their wild-goose chase. Patrice, come sit down.”
“We’re wasting our time and resources. I don’t want anything to go wrong. What’s the point of capturing this woman who happened to see the crew last night? Don’t we already know she switched at the last minute?”
“Patrice, Patrice, Patrice.” He rose and placed his hands on her shoulders, patting them like a pet dog.
He’d never had a dog. He couldn’t abide the shedding, drooling or constant neediness. He’d tried a cat once, but soon disposed of it. He supposed the people who worked for him were pets enough, but he preferred to think of them all as pawns.
“Why can’t you appreciate the fine chessboard that I’ve set into motion? This is the part I enjoy.”
“Chess has never been my thing.” She smiled uncomfortably. He saw her reaction in one of the many mirrors he had strategically placed around the room for just this occasion.
“And still you’ve accomplished so many aspects of a refined chessman,” he complimented her, forcing the words he barely could say, squeezing her shoulders a bit. Patrice was far from a disciplined chess player. “You are very good at guile, manipulation and distraction. Dispatch four of your best, dear. I want this accomplished this morning.”
“Four of my best?”
“If you want to achieve your goal, then you must be willing to sacrifice your players.” He moved his queen’s bishop, knowing the piece would be captured. He’d left his opponent no choice. The sacrifice would be seen as a potential deadly mistake, but in the long run it would help him achieve his goal of checkmate.
“That...that...hurts—”
“They are easily replaced. More can be trained.”
He applied even more pressure, certain her skin would be bruised the next time he saw it.
To her triumph, she didn’t pout or ask him to stop. “Where should she be taken?”
“I will make the arrangements. Notify me when the deed is done.” He released the pressure and petted the bruised flesh.
“Yes, sir.” She carefully wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.
Pain could remind pawns faster than any words.
“We shall give the authorities another bone to dig their teeth into for a while. It appeases the American taxpayers and we go on our merry way for some time before they drag their hungry behinds back to the border for more.”
“And what is this bone?”
“Andrea Allen.”
Chapter Ten
Andrea’s bags were packed and would be shipped later. Her laptop and change of clothes were in her shoulder bag. She looked around the observatory with a feeling of desolation. Everyone around her was determined she’d leave on that helicopter with her dad and...
That was the problem. There was no “and.” If she left the McDonald Observatory and her research, there wasn’t an option left for her. Nothing except a second-rate teaching job at a university already overstaffed with more than enough astronomers twiddling their thumbs. Well, it might not be that horrible.
But it wasn’t her dream job. Nor did it sound exciting at all. Definitely not as exciting as working in Germany, Australia or South Africa.
“You don’t look too happy.”
“You think?” she smarted off to her rescuer turned guard. “I’m sorry, Pete. It’s just that my dad is so overprotective. Because of his position and authority, everyone just falls into line with any decision, complying with his every wish.”
“Got it.”
Sheriff Morrison opened his stance and placed himself back to the wall, facing the entrance, staring straight ahead. Straight over her head. He probably didn’t realize his hands rested on his belt, his right very near the hilt of his pistol. He was ready for whatever might come their way.
It was just plain selfish of her not to acknowledge the risk he was taking or the friend he’d just lost.
“I’m sorry, I realize you’d rather be investigating your friend’s death.”
“My job’s right here.” He continued his guard duty, never meeting her eyes, looking anywhere—everywhere—but at her.
“Forget it. I’m not running away. I know I have to leave. I can’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.” Or murdered. She saw the words on his face with the minuscule clenching of his jaw. “I appreciate you staying with me until the Commander arrives.”
“I gave my word,” he said matter-of-factly, without much inflection or a shrug. He looked like every soldier who had ever stood guard over her growing up.
“Of course you did. I’m appreciative nonetheless.” Not only did he look the same as those soldiers, he acted the same, too. “They should be here any minute. I think I’ll wait outside.”
“I don’t think the patio’s a good idea.”
“I don’t really care what you think. I can’t stand it in here another minute.” On her way through the door, she punched the release bar a little too hard, causing her injured wrist to sting. It was just enough to make her eyes water. Or make her realize they were watering. And once they started there’d be no stopping the tears.
“Hold on,” Pete said, coming after her. “If someone followed us, they could be waiting for you to show yourself.”
“You’re right again, Sheriff.” She let her hands slap her thighs, frustrated she couldn’t do anything right. More frustrated that he was about to witness a meltdown. She rubbed the protective bandage, determined he’d interpret that as the reason for the tears.
“Come on, Andrea. This isn’t my fault.”
She knew that and was about to blab it to him. The words weren’t going to stop and she wouldn’t be able to pick and choose which she said out loud.
“Dang it, I’m not blaming you for anything. I’ve lost the only job I’ve ever wanted because I was...I was bored on a Friday night. It’s all my fault. I know that.” She swiped at the silent tears. Tears for Sharon and a deputy she’d never met. For an injured man who walked out of the desert and died anyway when she wrecked the car. And selfish tears for her lost career. Cry
ing for herself seemed petty, but she couldn’t stop.
Before she knew it, Pete had his arms around her, turning her face into his shoulder. His name tag poked her cheek, but she didn’t care. She could smell the starch used on his shirt. Feel the rock-hard muscles again under her palms. It was so easy to be safe wrapped in his arms. It defied logic, but there was nothing logical in anything that had happened since yesterday evening.
Nothing logical at all.
“You can’t blame yourself, either, Andrea. If you hadn’t volunteered to take Sharon’s place, they would have found another way to get to you. It could have been here, surrounded by tourists with lots of kids running everywhere.”
Since the fire he’d been professional to the extreme. She preferred him closer with his words a warm whisper against her ear. His hands a steadying force cupping her shoulders. Standing in the circle of his arms seemed both natural and enchanting in spite of the circumstances.
“I wish I’d met you two weeks ago,” she said softly into his uniform.
“You might not have found this place so boring.” He gently moved her away from hiding her face in his shoulder.
Her chin momentarily rested in the crook of his index finger before he quickly extended his others to circle the back of her neck. Angling her lips closer to his, sweeping down to make a claim.
His lips captured hers, or hers captured his. She didn’t care. They meshed together while their bodies screamed to get closer. He was right yet again. If she’d met him when she first arrived in West Texas, she definitely wouldn’t have been bored.
“I don’t know how many rules we’re breaking. At the moment, I’m not really sure I want to know.” There was nothing soft about Pete’s kiss.
No auditioning necessary.
He was an easy person to like, to admire. Maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t sticking around, because she could fall for him. Easy.
The sounds of a helicopter bounced through the mountains. Her father would be here any minute. The Commander hadn’t revealed what location she’d be whisked off to. If she was the only person this situation affected, she’d be kicking everyone controlling her life to the curb.
Including the handsome young sheriff holding her in his arms.
“I don’t want to go, Pete. I’m not saying that because of the Commander or my dissertation. I haven’t wanted to stay with anyone in a long time.” She searched his eyes and melted a little more when his dimples appeared. “Have you?”
“I thought that was a pretty good second audition, if I do say so myself.” He caught her lips to his again but quickly released them, too. “Just makes me want you on that chopper that much more. You aren’t safe here.”
“At least give me your number. Do you have a card or something?”
He laughed and shook his head. “You know how to reach me, Andrea.”
“True, but Honey doesn’t like me. She might not give you the message.” She had to joke. They were talking about a call that would never happen. She’d never be allowed to come back to Fort Davis or see the Marfa lights. No matter what position her father held, he’d put her under house arrest before she got close to the border alone.
“Your ride’s here.” He casually dipped that chiseled chin toward the chest she’d just cried her heart out against. His Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed hard. The brim of his hat cast a shadow over his tanned cheek.
Before he could release her, she leaned in for one last kiss. Pete didn’t disappoint. Their lips connected and there wasn’t a thought of what they should or shouldn’t be doing. Just feeling.
The sad goodbye got her hotter than the desert sun. Then the chopper approached and she recognized the sound. She’d heard it the night before. She’d been racking her brains trying to match the distinct whomp, whomp, whomp that had been chasing her. Mixed as it was with the engine noise of Sharon’s car, she hadn’t been able to distinguish its distinctiveness.
But she knew helicopters and planes. She might not have had much in common with her father...but she had that. It had been their game. They knew their engines.
“That’s not my father.” Andrea pointed in the direction the chopper was approaching. “You have to trust me, Pete. That’s a Hiller, a training helicopter. My dad wouldn’t be traveling in anything that small. It only holds three people.”
“You know what kind of helicopter just by the sound?”
“What do these idiots want? I can’t believe they’re coming here in broad daylight with my father ten minutes behind them. It’s insane. Do they think they’re going to swoop in and—”
Cut off by a shotgun blast, Pete pushed her between him and the building. People eating snacks at the table ran, ducking for cover behind the low brick wall separating them from the field.
“Pete! They don’t care who they hurt!”
The doors were a couple of steps away. Another shot burst the brick just above their heads. She ducked to the side, but Pete kept his head down and drew his weapon, retreating to the people pinned down outside.
The gunfire shifted to the other side of the building. Pete searched the direction of the field, stood and helped a family inside the building.
“Everyone back from the windows! Go!” He waved people away from the doors made of glass toward an open classroom. “Get those kids into the classrooms. Everybody stay low. You’ll be safe.”
“What’s going on?” an older man yelled from behind the information desk. “Who’s attacking?”
“I’m Sheriff Morrison, Presidio County. Get on the speaker and tell everyone to get to an inside room. Stay away from the windows. No one goes outside. Anyone outside needs to stay in their vehicles.”
Pete had her backed up against a wall, literally. He directed people, having holstered his weapon when the threat didn’t follow him indoors. He pressed her against the paneling well away from the outer doors.
“I can help. I’m a pretty good shot,” she offered.
“You don’t leave my sight. That’s what they want. Chaos and for me to lose focus. You’re the prize, Andrea. They want you for leverage and are obviously willing to risk an open attack.”
“I can call the Commander.”
“They’re listening to the police frequency, maybe even my phone. It’s the only way they could have known you were here or that your father was sending a chopper for you.”
His body completely blocked her view. She shifted to her right and so did he. Hand on his weapon, ready to go.
“How did they even know who my father is? Oh, God, my ID. They have my name and found out who I am.” It really was all her fault. A stupid series of mistakes or events that were ending with innocent people’s deaths. “If they are listening, the sooner my father says he’s coming, the faster they’ll leave. Please, Pete. I can’t let anyone else get hurt.”
“Here.” He shoved his cell between their bodies. “Make it quick. The men after you are aggressive bas—” He cut himself off while two women herded kids into the classroom, shutting the door behind them.
She punched in her father’s cell number. “No luck. There’s no reception here.” She tried to wriggle free from behind Pete’s back. “I need the observatory phone.”
“Stay where you are, Andrea. Wait, you should get into the classroom with everyone else. You’ll be safer and can make the call from there. It sounds like they’re landing.” Pete moved along the perimeter of the room, closer to the glass patio exit.
She felt exposed, even though she was safe from any gunfire.
“Where are you going?”
“I can’t let them enter the building.”
She ran across the room to the information desk. “Where are the keys to the doors?”
“Right here,” the volunteer answered, slapping the keys on a pile of Star Party pamphlets. “But I ain’t getting paid to risk my life.”
“Of course not,” she said, soothing his hand and looking at his name tag. “But, Ben, can you dial 911? Tell them to find Comm
ander Tony Allen to let him know what’s happening. I swear he’ll help us.”
“Don’t even think about locking those front doors, Andrea. That’s what they want,” Pete instructed, handgun finally drawn and in a ready position. She recognized the stance as the same one her father had taught her. Her gun was inside her travel bag and the bag was on the patio.
“Hurry,” she whispered to Ben, who had the landline in his hand but hesitated to reach for the base to dial. “Please.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“I can do this, Pete. Are they on the ground yet?” She’d feel better if she could get to her gun on the patio.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Pete said beside her, taking the keys from her hands. He stood and pulled her back behind the information desk.
“Trying to slow them down.”
“Locking the doors won’t do that, hon. We don’t know what’s out there. And I won’t let you—or anyone—risk being exposed.” He jerked his head at the volunteer still holding the phone. “Get into the classroom and bar the door with anything you can find.”
“Yes, sir.” Ben crawled extremely fast for an older gentleman.
“Hello?” a voice coming from the receiver yelled. Pete clicked a speaker button. “Morrison here. Did you get through to Commander Allen?”
“They’re still trying to locate him. Sheriff and deputies are about twenty minutes out.”
“That’s what I figured.” Pete raised himself far enough to see over the counter. “He’s probably with my dad. Try his cell. Tell them we’re pinned inside the Observatory Visitor Center. I’m leaving the line open.”
Andrea tried to peek over the counter with him, and he shoved her shoulder down before she could get a look. There was nothing to see anyway. Chairs had been knocked over, but the center was empty. This was the first time she actually wished her dad was closer.
* * *
PETE SEARCHED THE WALL. Maintenance. Office. Auditorium. Café. He needed someplace safe to hide Andrea before an unknown force burst through the unlocked doors and overpowered them. He wasn’t wearing his vest. His dad would tan his hide...if he had one left to hang out to dry.