by Linda Ladd
Novak squatted down against the trunk of a large oak tree, leaned back, and didn’t move. He watched for other guards. About ten minutes later, he spotted the woman. He couldn’t see her well because she sat up high on an upper deck that didn’t have steps leading down to the ground. Looked like it was built off the master bedroom, maybe. She was sitting on a covered outdoor swing, hidden in the shadows. The sway of the swing was what first caught his eye. There was no porch light on. He could barely make her out in the dim blue glow off the pool, but he was pretty sure it was a woman, but looked so small that it could be a child. The figure was not male. Way too little. Whoever it was, she was alone, sitting up there in the dark. He watched and waited some more, figuring the guard on the deck right below her would move away and check out the rest of the house. That’s what the guy should be doing, if he was a trained security guard. Unless there were other guys posted on the other side of the house.
When a porch light suddenly flashed on behind the woman and threw a swath of light out over the yard, Novak ducked back. Then he watched Barrett Wilson come out of a French door. He looked angry and walked with long, jerky strides. He headed straight across the deck to the woman and grabbed her by the arm. Then he yanked her up, brutally, hard enough that Novak heard her cry out. Then he dragged her back to the door, speaking in a low, angry voice. Novak couldn’t hear what he was saying.
Then Wilson shoved her inside the house so hard that she fell on her hands and knees in the threshold. He hauled her back to her feet, all the while berating her in that harsh voice. Before the door closed, Novak thought he heard the woman cry out again. Novak’s muscles started to tense up. He didn’t like what he’d just seen. He didn’t like bullies and he didn’t like men who bullied women. It was a thing with him. It pushed all his buttons. Every single one.
Wilson appeared to be an abuser, all right, and the woman, whoever she turned out to be, appeared to be in trouble. She came off small and afraid and battered, and no doubt scared to death of her husband. Certainly no spunky, headstrong woman like the one Wilson had described to Novak. She needed a bodyguard, all right, somebody to protect her from Barrett Wilson.
After that, the house went dark. The guard still sat smoking, comfortable at his station, completely at ease, as if he had neither seen nor heard the domestic dispute that went on just above him. He was lax and lazy and not ready for an intruder who knew what he was doing. Good. The night got quiet. Wind died down. He no longer heard the dogs. Didn’t think they were up at the cliff house. Maybe they were kept somewhere else on the compound, for duck hunting, some kind of retrievers, maybe.
After a while, Novak went on the prowl again, moving slowly and stealthily, skirting the edge of the trees all the way to the far side of the property. That’s when he saw the graveled road winding up to the house through some heavy, dark woods. No guards watched the road out there, but solar lights in long rows had been placed along each side. Novak could see game cameras here and there, too, strapped up high on tree trunks, just like they had been along all the roads inside Wilson’s compound.
Novak crept back down around the house, feeling certain Wilson was hiding something somewhere up in his cliff-top haven. After about thirty yards of slinking through the trees, a dark red barn loomed up out of the darkness. It was also built out of prefab metal with a corrugated gray metal roof. Two men loitered around a big rolling truck door under a bright dusk-to-dawn light. An offshoot path forked off the grassy lawn above and led down to the regular street door beside the truck entrance. There were several industrial lights high on the building, most likely motion detectors. He skirted the clearing, looking for a logo, or some kind of indication of what Wilson kept inside. Whatever it was, it was heavily protected and not on the up-and-up.
Novak circled back, moving behind the barn through thick undergrowth until he saw another structure with outside lights. Turned out to be a large stable, half hidden inside a copse of giant pine trees. He could hear the horses moving inside, a low snort now and then. There was a training ring out to one side, and several horse trails branching out through the woods in different directions, each with a light at the head of the path. No guards to be seen. Behind that structure was a tennis court and a large greenhouse that was lit up like a Christmas tree. No guards that he could see there, either. He managed to crawl up to the rear of the greenhouse and took a quick peek inside.
Through a dirty window, he could see pots of flowers sitting around everywhere, all kinds of flowers. Other containers held vegetables twining up on wood stakes, tomatoes, green beans, squash, and there were a couple of small fruit trees in giant containers. Lemons and oranges hung off the stems. To his right, under a ton more rectangular fluorescent lights that hung down low, Wilson was growing his own personal stash of weed. Wilson had just about everything he needed to self-sustain, all right, just like Sandy had said. Not enough weed there to make any kind of profit on the street, though. So most of it must be for his personal use. Or his wife’s. After the incident Novak witnessed earlier between the married couple, she probably needed to get stoned more often than Wilson did. Or maybe the main cash crop was growing somewhere else inside the compound. There were plenty of arable fields and pastures that were well hidden in the woodsy terrain. Maybe drug trade was the source of his riches. A meth lab could be hidden any number of places on this kind of guarded compound.
By the time he checked out all the buildings, he’d been gone the better part of two hours. It would be getting light soon, and he had to get back to the cabin before anybody in the Hunt Club was out and about. He retraced his steps to the cliff, found the bridal path, and headed down to the river. At the bottom, he took off at a jog toward the shallow ford where he’d crossed earlier along the stepping stones. That’s when he made his first mistake.
“Hold it right there,” said a deep voice that floated out of the darkness. It came from behind him. Very close.
Novak held it right there. It was still pitch-dark, clouds obscuring what little moonlight there was. He couldn’t see much, but he could hear the guy approaching him from the back, his heavy boots clacking across the smooth brown river rocks. The guy had to be armed, but Novak couldn’t act until he knew exactly where he was. Not without getting shot in the back.
“Hands up, Novak. Then turn around. Real slow and easy now.”
Novak realized who had spotted him. His brand-new, less than friendly buddy. Sandy Boyer. And a lot smarter than Novak had anticipated. He’d followed him or somehow tracked him from the cabin. That was probably it. Novak would have noticed a tail. Still, it was careless on Novak’s part. Now he was in trouble that he could probably get out of, but which would complicate earning Wilson’s trust. Maybe he could talk himself out of it.
Sandy was chatty now. “I knew you were up to no good the minute I saw you sitting down there at the Triangle. All smug and trying to act tough. You and that girlfriend of yours both. So I snooped around your cabin tonight, found you gone, and tracked you out here. I’m good at tracking. You should’ve known that. That’s why I work at the Hunt Club. You’re every bit as dirty as I figured you were. So, tell me, why are you really here? What’s your game?”
“You got this all wrong, Sandy. I always run at night. And I just ended up here because I heard the river and saw the lights at the top of the cliff.”
“Don’t think so. I’m not that stupid. Keep those hands high or I will shoot you dead and with great pleasure. Believe me.”
Novak believed him. Now he could see Sandy. Standing about a yard away, gun out in front, pointed dead center at Novak’s chest. “Okay, okay, I guess you caught me. It’s nothing to worry about. I just wanted to have a look around the compound. Just to make sure I wanted to hang around here for a while. Lots of secrecy going on and that bothers me.”
“Maybe that’s because you’re a cop. Undercover.”
“I’m no cop. Used to be. Up in New York. Not anymore, not for a long time.”
Sandy step
ped closer, gun still on Novak’s center mass. Two feet between them now. “Well, you’re shit outta luck this time, big guy. Maybe the boss wants us to trust you, but I don’t trust you. Not even a little bit. So I’m gonna kill you right now before you talk your way out of this. You know the drill. I saw an intruder creeping around, spying on the boss, and I had to shoot him. Barrett’s gonna thank me, too, once I tell him that you were sneaking around his house in the middle of the night like some kind of pervert . . .”
That’s as far as he got, because Novak believed him. He lunged straight at Sandy, quick, low, hard. He grabbed the AR rifle with both hands, twisted it up and out to his left, then head-butted Sandy in the face as hard as he could. He heard the sickening crunch of the other man’s nose and felt it give way under the intensity of the blow. Then the spatter of warm blood drops hit his face. Sandy groaned and staggered backward, dazed and gushing blood, but he never let go of the rifle and never went down.
Novak still had hold of the gun, pressing Sandy backward and twisting his gun arm up backward, trying to wrestle the rifle away before it went off and sent an alarm to the other guards. He slammed his right fist into Sandy’s solar plexus, and Sandy jerked over at the waist, breath knocked out of him. Novak managed to jerk the gun out of his hands then, but Sandy had enough left to charge at him, head down.
He hit Novak low, wrapping both arms around Novak’s knees and propelling them both off the bank into the rushing river. They went under the surface together, down deep, and Novak let loose of the gun as he struggled desperately to lever his body so he could come out on top. He was stronger than Sandy, heavier, big enough to do it, but Sandy didn’t want to give up. It was now a life-and-death struggle, and they both knew it. They broke the surface a few seconds later, both gasping for air, still struggling for the rifle, the current swift enough to carry them a good ways downstream. The rush of the water made it difficult for either to throw effective punches, but Sandy caught Novak with an uppercut under the chin that snapped his head back. Novak went backward and under the surface again, but he had a two-fisted grip on the front of Sandy’s camouflage jacket and took him under with him.
Novak twisted, and finally managed to get Sandy down and underneath him. He used both arms and forced the struggling man deeper into the water, using all his remaining strength, one knee pressed hard into his chest, the water rushing them farther downstream. He held the guy down, well under the surface, his own face barely clearing the surface enough to breathe. He gulped air when he could, but the splashing river washed relentlessly over his face, choking him, while Sandy fought desperately to loosen his grip. Novak was too powerful, and it seemed forever before Sandy finally gave up. Novak held him down and waited for a shallow stretch of the river where he could struggle to the bank. He braced himself against the current and hauled Sandy’s body up and dragged him out onto the bank.
Then he dropped down onto his knees in the mud, panting, clothes wet and waterlogged heavy, adrenaline boiling through his bloodstream. His heart was pounding; he could feel it inside his chest, the staccato beat thundering inside his ears. After a couple of minutes down on his hands and knees, trying to calm the hard thuds rocking his chest, he collapsed on his back and cased out the house atop the cliff. Nobody seemed to be coming after him, no shouts of alarm, and he was damn lucky nobody had seen or heard the altercation. A few minutes later, Novak pushed himself up to standing, got a tight grip on Sandy’s collar, and dragged him off the bank and back down into the water. He floated the body out until he found the main current, gushing hard at midstream, and let it go. The swirling current took it away quickly until it disappeared into the darkness downstream.
Before the sun rose, the body would be far downriver. Maybe Novak would get lucky. Maybe they would never find Sandy’s body or his gun. Maybe they would think Sandy drowned or just took off. Novak rested there a moment, and then he swam across the river and crawled out on the opposite bank. He knelt down again in the dark underbrush, waiting, still coming down from his lethal struggle for survival, breathing hard and listening for pursuers.
When he was certain the fight in the river had gone undetected, he lay down on his back in the mud, giving his racing pulse more time to slow down. He could just see the top of the cliff house now, partially blocked by the trees. Still dark. Still silent. No alarm going off, no flashlight beams moving back and forth in the dark, no one searching for him or for Sandy Boyer. He had gotten lucky. It was a good thing he had the kind of training it had taken to get the better of Boyer. Truth was, he had been careless, and he had been lucky to come out alive. He should never have allowed himself to be followed. He hadn’t expected that kind of surveillance, not on a civilian compound, not on his first night there, but he should have expected it. He should have known that Sandy Boyer was more competent than the men who answered to him.
After his pulse beat slow and regular again, he got up and headed back through the field of tall grass. He traversed the far edge, and not long after he ended up back behind his cabin. Unfortunately, he had company. His new friend, the very available sex kitten, Kiki, was sitting in one of the Adirondacks. Novak stopped standstill in his tracks. Man, he had better start using his head. He had not been expecting a welcoming party, either, especially not some young kid. He had better get his act together, think things out a little better, and get it together quick.
“Hi, big guy,” Kiki said to him, jumping up from her chair. She sounded all bright and wide awake, as if dawn wasn’t just trying to break over the woods. “Where you been, anyways?”
What the hell? Disbelieving his run of bad luck, Novak approached her, stopped right in front of her. “I like to run at night. Gets me ready for my day. ”
“I can think of something better for you to do at night. A lot better than running around in the woods and gettin’ all hot and sweaty and wet like you are now.”
Kiki was smoking a cigarette, holding it between her thumb and forefinger like a joint. Correction: It was a joint. He could smell the pungent odor in the cool morning air. She crushed it out on the steps beside her and put the roach in her pocket, still smiling. “I just woke up early and thought I’d come over and see if you wanted to have some fun with me. I live right there, see, right next door to you.” She pointed at the cabin next door. “We both got us private cabins so nobody’d know what we’re doing back here behind them. I’d like to have sex with you right now. We have time before the breakfast customers come in. What do you say?”
Novak sure as hell wasn’t in the mood for a romp in bed with a girl like Kiki. It was dangerous for his health. Now or anytime in the future.
“You’re dripping wet,” she noted again.
“Got hot, like you said. Took a dip in the lake to cool off.”
“I think you look sexy all wet and hot like that. Bet all that runnin’ gets you lots a stamina in the sack, huh?”
This gal needed some serious parenting. “How old are you, Katherine?”
“C’mon, don’t give me that. And don’t call me that, either. I’m sure old enough to handle you. Don’t care how old you are, anyways. I like older guys. And you are just a real hunk. I mean it. Sexy and stuff. Reallllllly sexy. You bein’ all big and tall and tough and stuff. Hester thinks you’re cute, too. She said so.”
Hester? Novak found that hard to believe, but he had to get rid of the girl and get a few hours of sleep. “Know what, Kiki? That’s a truly tempting offer of yours, boy, is it ever, but I’m just too beat. I just ran about ten miles. That’s when that older thing kicks in.”
She frowned, not thrilled that he wasn’t as eager as she was. “How come you go out runnin’ in the middle of the night? That’s way weird.”
“Couldn’t sleep. You know, new place, new bed.” He glanced around, not wanting anyone else to see him. “Maybe next time. When I’m rested and ready. Okay?”
“You better watch yourself. Sandy’s not gonna like you roamin’ around the compound like this late at night. H
e doesn’t like me to be out of the cabin at night, either.”
“Well, maybe he doesn’t have to know.”
Kiki giggled. “Okay, I gotcha. Mum’s the word. Hey, you sure you don’t want to mess around for a little while? I could take a shower with you. Scrub your back. You’d like it. They all do.”
“That’s tempting, believe me. But no, I’m gonna have to take a rain check.”
Kiki obviously was quite startled at being turned down, probably the only time it had ever happened. She pouted a bit, pursed her lips coquettishly, and said, “Okay, but you don’t know what you’re missing, mister. You’ll be sorry.”
“Yes, I do. Trust me. Not that often I get the most beautiful girl in the world inviting me into her bed.”
She liked the sound of that. Liked it enough, in fact, to come up close and rub herself against him in a way that showed a lot of practice in seduction. “This here is what you’re missing, mister. All this nice soft skin that I’m rubbing up against you. Think about that when you’re in bed all by your lonesome. I’ll be right next door, waiting. If you should happen to change your mind.”
“It’s taking all my willpower right now. You’re a hard girl to resist.”
“Your loss, huh?” But she liked his compliments. She was smiling. She tossed her hair around like young girls like to do when feeling sexy and powerful over men, and then she finally strolled off toward her place.