“It’s a mistake to work him when you’re angry.”
I turned on Aiden, ready to shoot him down with the rage bubbling close to the surface. He watched, face a careful, neutral expression. I clenched my jaws, but he was right. I’d only cause more damage. I returned the items to their places, grabbing a bridle and saddle instead.
Fire’s Fuel poked her beautiful bay muzzle over the stall door, snorting softly when she spotted me. Over the past weeks, I’d ridden her often, mostly at night, and she’d become a lean, mean, running machine, as she was bred to do.
Aiden never said a word, helped get her tacked up, and he walked to another stall, bringing out a new colt. Almost a replica of Five Alarm.
“Who is that?” I stared in open mouthed awe. “I haven’t had any new horses arrive, at least that I know of.”
“Jake shot and killed Maverick months ago, along with every other horse in his stable. But he missed one out in the pastures. I rescued him last month, been working with him since. He’s a good colt, Karen,” Brent’s voice echoed in the high ceilings.
“I always knew Mav and Five looked alike, but that’s ridiculous!” I stared at the sorrel colt. “He’s what, three?”
Brent stared at his boots. “Your father bred Ringing Alarm to Five Card Stud one last time after you went to college. Maverick is the full brother of Five Alarm, despite the paperwork. This colt is out of Maverick.”
I nodded. I pulled hard on the cinch, put a foot in the stirrups, and swung easily into the saddle. I looked down when Brent grabbed my ankle.
He took a deep breath, staring into my eyes, “Five Alarm never had the microchip. Maverick always had it. We recovered it and handed it over. You’re safe. Your father left you another legacy, one I think you’ll appreciate, just open your eyes.”
I yanked my ankle out of his grip, and nudged Fire into a walk. Lies, lies, and more lies. I thought there wasn’t a chip, come to find out it did exist. Five was mutilated, and his psyche nearly pulverized, for something he’d never had contact with. I couldn’t appreciate what Dad left me. Blood, nightmares, death … none were something to celebrate. They sure as hell weren’t something to brag about.
I glanced behind to find Aiden mounting the colt, who danced a little in the aisle. I smiled, so like Five Alarm in the early years. I wondered if he inherited Five Card Stud’s fire, or Ringing Alarm’s intelligence.
Helicopters circled like vultures, as we rode into the afternoon sun. The colt snorted, trying to get his head, but Aiden easily brought him under control. Fire ignored the noise.
“Ready?” I gave a small smile. He nodded.
I tapped my heels, and we moved into a light jog, letting the horses warm up. Three acres into the ride, I leaned forward, and gave the word. Fire’s Fuel took off. I reveled in the power of her muscles, her ability to settle into a ground eating gallop, pushing hair out of my face. I grinned, enjoying the wind, the sounds of hooves on grass, the smell of horses and forgetting about life. I could concentrate on guiding Fire, over small hills, across flat ground, her stride eating ground like candy on Halloween.
I turned at Aiden’s laugh, gasping at the beauty. Since I’d known the man, he’d always been tightly wound, ready for action, though gentle with me or the animals. But in that moment, he was young, free, enjoying the ride as much as I did. The colt’s expression matched Aiden’s – a moment of freedom, living in the minute, no worries.
We flew, laughing, until we closed in on the backside of the property. I slowed Fire, giggling.
“That never grows old,” I panted. Fire danced sideways, eager for the run to the stable. She’d gained a lot of stamina and it showed.
“Wow! I’d forgotten how much fun that is,” Aiden smiled.
I nodded and turned Fire towards home. The moment fled when I saw one of the helicopters land, and men in black BDUs get out. I looked at Aiden, as he watched and frowned.
“Friends?” I nodded at the helicopter.
“No. Let’s get out of here. Does she have enough juice?” he glanced at Fire.
“Yes.” I kicked hard into Fire’s side. She bolted, and Aiden pushed the colt. We took off in opposite directions, making the men stop for a moment, unsure of whom to chase. They ran for the bird, and it took off, flying low, following me. I looked up, seeing foreign symbols painted on the bottom. I guided Fire to the center of the property, using the reins to smack her shoulders, demanding more speed. She leapt forward, shifting into another gear.
Aiden and I raced to the stables, his colt lagging at the end. The arena doors were open and we galloped into the cover. Both horses were panting, covered in sweat. Brent ran to the double doors, quickly sliding them shut.
“Heard you guys coming hell bent for leather, so to speak,” he grabbed the reins of the horses. “I got them. We have visitors of the non-media type.” He nodded at a group of men in business suits waiting in front of the entrance to the stables.
“Who are they?” Memories surfaced, reality melting into the background.
“The German government wants a favor.” Brent threw over his shoulder, “Listen carefully to what they ask for. You’ll learn a lot about your own history, as well as your father.” He led the horses into the cooling area.
I put a hand on my hip, using the other to pinch the bridge of my nose. Aiden’s elbow hit me lightly in the ribs. I looked up to find several men standing ten feet away, hands clasped in front, watching me. I struggled to maintain, shove the horrors into a small box.
I squared my shoulders, “What can I do for you, gentlemen?”
A man stepped from behind the muscle, a gentle smile on his face. He was only inches taller than my own five foot nine. He held out a hand, and I automatically grabbed it. He didn’t squeeze too hard, as many men had a tendency to do with women, and I met his dark blue eyes. I stepped back, and he shuffled his feet while pushing the dirty blond hair, a tad too long, out of his eyes. “Ms. Barnes, we wanted to talk to you in person. I’m sorry if we scared you with the helicopter landing while you were out riding,” his voice was melodic, thick with a German accent. “I am Peter Schloss, Ambassador to Germany.”
“What about?” I tilted my head, curious.
“The bunker underneath your stables. As you know, it was locked when the property was rebuilt, and we’d like access.” He stood straight, shoulders back, his face hardening. “We suspect it holds sensitive documents.”
“No. All documents we found were sent to the NSA, at their, um, insistence.”
“Not all, Ms. Barnes. We have information of a room filled with many government secrets, and only you can access it.”
“What secrets? Most of the paperwork is from the late seventies, early eighties. Nothing new,” I narrowed my eyes. “Plus I went through every inch of the bunker, there are no rooms left to explore.”
He sighed, shuffled his feet. A nervous tick. He pulled on his jacket sleeves, and I glanced at his attaché. All of them stood still, but several had facial ticks, and a few were looking away. “I must insist, Ms. Barnes.”
“Insist all you want. The answer is no. All rooms were opened and the documents turned over.” My cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID, “Excuse me, sir, I must answer.” I tapped the green button, “Hey!”
“Karrie-girl! I understand you have company?” My uncle’s smooth voice, known for charming the worst of the worst in the world, enveloped me through the tiny piece of technology.
“Yes, sir.” I turned my back.
“Sweetheart, they are telling the truth. My brother was known for having a maze within a maze, and a keeper of secrets. Give them the paperwork, for me.”
I sighed, “Something feels wrong with this.”
“There is a very good reason it feels wrong, Karrie-girl, and you know what it is. Now, let them in, the far north room has a door in the closet. Let them have the paperwork. It is nothing that will harm you, or us. I promise, and I have always kept my promises to you.”
I n
odded, “Yes, sir.”
“And Karen?”
“Yes?”
“There are secrets in which Ambassador Peter Schloss is privy to regarding your mother. Be nice, and he may just tell them to you.”
“Why won’t you tell me? Why didn’t Dad?”
“They aren’t our secrets to tell, sweetheart. Now, do as I bid.”
I tapped the end call button.
“My uncle is far more persuasive than you. If you will, follow us to the house. My friend and I need time to clean up and make ourselves a little more comfortable.” I turned on booted heel, not giving time to argue.
I left the group in the kitchen with Maria, who turned on the charm. She flirted with some of the men, making a few blush. I grinned and left, Aiden hot on my heels.
In my room, I shut the door. “Aiden, it feels wrong. As if I’m making a mistake.”
Aiden grabbed and held me close to his chest. “Of course it does. Nothing will feel right for a long time. But don’t fight this, let them have what they want. Let’s get cleaned up and take care of it.” He kissed the top of my head and left.
I stared at the door, wondering what to do. It wasn’t really my instincts having a shit fit about handing over the paperwork, it was the memories, the feeling of constant betrayal, the thought it was happening all over again. My hip began to ache, sharp ghost pains from the internal injuries, and my arm throbbed. I rubbed the area, backing slowly into my closet. I pushed into the corner, sliding down the wall. Would it ever quit?
I knew it wouldn’t. When I returned from Iraq, it’d taken four years to do more than give blank stares wherever I went. Recent events were piled on top, and like right now, the memories layered over reality. In the darkness of the closet, the Spade Farm room shone bright, the attempt to get away from Johnny. When Beth helped to stitch wounds, only to be rewarded with death. The terror in her eyes as the light dimmed with each heartbeat arcing through the air.
Memories shifted, and I was in the two room hut, on my ass, trying to find the enemy. I covered my ears, trying to drown out the sound of gunfire, the thick thuds of bullets hitting flesh, the horrific sound of men hitting the ground, their life gone. The feel of the M16’s kick as I fired at what I hoped was the enemy, screaming in mental pain at what I had to do. Knowing, and wanting to forget, I’d killed the innocent in the same room as the guilty.
I rocked, shaking my head, whispering into the darkness, “It’s not real, it’s not real.”
A furry body huddled close, making grumbling sounds. I grabbed Doc around the chest and held on for all I was worth.
Reality shifted to recent events, and I was trying to get out of my house, away from intruders. My arm hurt, waves of nausea making my stomach roil from the agony of a broken bone. Time moved again, and I could feel the damage of Johnny’s initial attack at Spade Farms.
The loop repeated itself, as my body shook, and I rocked. I whispered things, but couldn’t remember what I said.
A heavy knock on the door snatched me out of the memories, and I jumped, trying to find cover in the darkness of the hut.
“I’m in Laramie, I’m in Laramie, I’m in Laramie,” I chanted, face in my hands, taking deep breaths. I walked on wobbly legs out of the closet, Doc remaining close, grateful for reality.
“Karen, come on, they’re waiting,” Aiden yelled through the thick wood door.
“Just another moment,” I hollered, running for the bathroom. I flicked the switch and flinched. The scar on my face stood bright red against paper white skin. Dark shadows under my eyes made for a panicked look, and brunette curls fell over my forehead. I swallowed, chastising to get it together. I washed my face with hot water, hoping to bring back color. Quickly donning a headband, I jogged into the bedroom for clean clothes. I found an old pair of jeans, and a t-shirt. Slipping into a newer pair of boots, I stood and promised I wouldn’t break down in front of the guests. At the thought, my stomach growled loudly, becoming violent. Ignoring it as best as I could, I opened the door to find Aiden waiting.
“Ready?” he questioned, his expression leading me to believe he meant more than cleaned up.
“No,” I growled, pushing past him.
We met Mr. Schloss in the kitchen, and I grabbed a key from a hook near the phone. I nodded at all of the men, turning away to swallow a hard lump. Concentrated on breathing, we walked into the stable. The office held the main entrance into the bunker, and I pushed through the closet.
In the background, I heard a scream from Five Alarm, along with commotion. My heart faltered. He was as broken as me. I wondered for the umpteenth time if I should put him down, out of his misery. But something said no, he deserved a second chance, if only I could find a way to lead him to it.
I opened the door, twisted the key and punched in the code. I’d had a special lock installed, one that changed according to a set pattern. It didn’t matter if anyone saw me put in the code, it would never be used again, and the new pattern was known only to me.
I tried to hide the shaking. While I didn’t lie, everything known was cleared out, and the bunker was empty, I had not visited since killing Johnny. I was told the mess was cleaned up, and wouldn’t walk into a mess similar to the one that had been left of the house and stables.
The elevator ride down was long, and I stood almost at attention, trying to remain under control. My heart attempted to leap out of its confines, and the proverbial elephant constricted breathing. I recognized the panic attack and closed my eyes the rest of the ride. I jerked as we came to a smooth stop, opened the doors, punched in another combination, and shuddered as the massive steel doors opened. I waved the others to step into the massive room before me, pretending to hold the elevator doors open.
Aiden put a hand on my shoulder, and I glanced at him. He nodded gently, squeezed and exited the lift.
“Gentlemen, if you will follow me while Karen locks the elevator and doors,” he walked toward the far end of the room.
I loved him even more in that moment. The group walked away, and I could breathe again. I locked the elevator in place and pushed the button to shut the steel doors. My heart kicked into a higher gear, almost painfully. Locked in, locked in, locked in, my mind screamed, images of the carnage trying to overtake reality.
“Damn it to hell, Karen, get a grip on yourself.” I leaned against the doors, reminding myself it was over. All that was left was Rupert’s trial. A growl by my knee, and I absently reached down to scratch Doc’s ears. I’d forgotten, but he’d never left my side. Kneeling to look into his beautiful face, I recognized the signs of maturity. He was going to have the classic mastiff head. The vet guessed he’d stop around one twenty. His fur was losing the puppy fluff, growing in the silky outer coat. He nuzzled a hand and stepped forward, putting his head on a shoulder.
I relaxed. His intrinsic scent pushed the panic to something manageable. “Thanks, big guy,” I whispered into the scruff of his neck. I gently stood and turned to follow the men.
I found them going through the north hallway, looking for the room my uncle said the hidden door resided. I pushed through the Ambassador’s security, touching Aiden’s arm briefly, taking the lead. I knew the room.
Three hallways and a long, uncomfortable silence later, I popped the lock and the door opened. Inside nothing was left, only the concrete and a cold smell. At the back of the room another door stood, entrance into a large office. I entered the code and walked to the room, looking for a hiding place. Old furniture lay scattered in the twenty by twenty room, and against the far wall stood a German Shrunk in aged oak. It stood eight feet tall, approximately twelve foot long, taking most of one wall. I moved to stand in front of it, touching the wood. The glass was etched with hunting scenes, the craftsmanship worthy of praise.
“I think the door is behind this,” I glanced over a shoulder. “Think you guys can move it and not break anything? I’m taking this topside later.” The piece of furniture called to my soul.
The security re
moved their suit jackets, rolled up sleeves, and spoke in rapid German. They inched the shrunk away from the wall, until it stood in the middle of the room.
I walked around the piece and found a small, narrow door. It lay flat and almost unnoticeable, with the exception of very narrow lines. If one wasn’t looking, they could be mistaken for something else. I inched forward, trying to understand how to open the door. I used fingertips to run over the seams, feeling smooth concrete. I stood back, frowning. On a hunch, I pushed the right side and heard the click of a latch. The door swung open, releasing stale air and dust.
I waved it out of my face and stepped into the dark space. Doc pushed past me, into the room, making chuffing noises. I felt the wall to the right and flipped the switch. Lights flickered and another room lit up.
I stared in open mouthed shock. Lining every wall were dozens upon dozens of old, steel file cabinets. In the middle of the room stood a long table, enough to seat at least a dozen good sized men. Pencil holders, dusty and covered in cracked leather, filled the middle of the table, holding old fashioned Bic pens and plenty of #2 pencils. In a few places, old fashioned legal pads sat, with faded writing. Fascinated, I went around the table, looking at the scrawled writing, most questions, some with answers. I laughed, reading history. Several had ideas written how to rescue the fifty-two Iranian hostages. One had a date scribbled across the top: February 5, 1980. I stopped and stared, I recognized the handwriting. Running a finger along the words, I realized Dad had something to do with it, a couple of years before I was born.
I looked at Aiden, grinning. “My father, he helped.” I pointed at the paper.
Mr. Schloss cleared his throat, “May we look for our paperwork?”
I stared at him, wondering if I should give him carte blanche to go through the papers, or go through it myself.
“Let them, but check all paperwork before they leave,” Aiden whispered.
“Yes, Mr. Schloss, you may begin going through the paperwork, but I will be checking all of it before you leave. Do we have an understanding?” I met his eyes, not looking away, or blinking.
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