Wynter's Horizon

by Dee C. May

  “What happened with Lilly?”

  “Oh, she was an early one, too. She had family history I didn’t check into carefully enough. Depression on her father’s side, schizophrenia on the mother’s. It was an oversight.” An oversight? That’s what we were to him.

  “Why do I have anger I can’t control?”

  “Nature likes a balance, you know, the good with the bad. I got better perfecting the arrangement.” He motioned to Quinn. “He came after the two of you. No anger issues. Of course, he’s not as fast, is he?” There was regret in his voice. It sparked my anger.

  “You played God?”

  His tone was just as sharp. “Yes. Yes I did. And aren’t you glad? If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be here today.”

  I thought of Wynter’s bruised face. I fought the urge to crush his desk and him with it. It brought me back to Lilly. There wasn’t time to be angry about who we were and how we got here. We still needed help.

  “Will you help us?” I tried to keep the anger from my voice.

  “My friends, I would like to. But I have no information. I don’t know where she went. I only know that, after she tried to blow up the residence hall, she was locked up and should have stayed that way. But they let her go, and now she wants vengeance. Interestingly, it’s not against your superiors but you. I gather she thinks you betrayed her. Turning her in. She’s after your circle. Maybe get revenge on the ones the government picked. That’s my guess. I do know she’s not in Prague, or else I would feel her.” He looked to Sara, who stood next to Quinn, and then back at me. “How stupid love makes us,” Phineas surmised. His eyes met mine, and he laughed, the sound roaring out of his mouth and echoing off the walls. Sara stepped close to him and placed her hand on his sleeve. He closed his mouth, his face softened. Clearly, he felt something for her.

  “If you find out anything. Call.”

  He nodded and then motioned to the door. “Go before anyone finds out you’re here. Who knows what they’re capable of.”

  . Tucked into the back seat of the rental car as we sped towards the train station, I thought about what Phineas said. I had answers now, more than I had ever wanted, but it didn’t make it better.

  ***

  The call from Drew’s office came halfway back to London.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Beck?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Kendall. An associate of Drew Harris.”

  “Yes?”

  “Drew went in on that Colombia drop.”

  My stomach lurched as an image of El Teniente crowded my mind. “When?”

  “Yesterday. We hadn’t had any contact since o-six-hundred and then we just got a call from him. He told me to repeat this message to you word for word. ‘Pretty boy. I have your watch.’ Does that make sense to you?” My head started pounding. I frantically motioned to Quinn to check the next train stop.

  “Do you have a contact for me there?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Send it on, and we’ll be on the first flight we can get.”

  I hung up. Quinn and Sara stared at me. Fucking Lilly. Somehow she knew. I blew my breath out.

  “Call the others. We’re going to Bogota.”

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Wynter—Dreaming

  The path to the beach twisted, and I pushed back the branches of sea grass bushes growing along the sides. I followed it up over the dunes. The sun shimmered across the water. Someone stood on the beach by the water’s edge. I started running, but my legs felt slow and heavy. Why couldn’t I go faster? The figure turned.

  “Beck?”

  He smiled.

  It seemed to take forever to reach him. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too.”

  “You’ve been gone so long. Where are you?” I asked, feeling winded.

  “London. Prague. Colombia.” He stared at me just like he always did. Smiling, one side up.

  “Are you coming home?”

  “I have things to do first.”

  “Just come home.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t. Not until I find her.”

  “Find who? What if you get hurt?” I reached out and touched his face but I didn’t feel it. “Don’t die. Whatever you do, don’t die,” I pleaded.

  “I can’t promise you that, Wynter. I can’t promise you anything. That’s why I’m not good for you.”

  He turned and walked away. Down the beach.

  “Are you coming home? I want you to come home. I don’t care what you can promise.”

  I ran after him, but the sand was thick, my legs slow. He walked faster than I could run. Move, I thought. Move faster.

  He turned and called something to me. The wind whipped across the water and carried his words out to sea. I heard nothing but the crashing of the waves.

  I woke with a jolt, my heart pounding. I pulled the chain on my bedside lamp. No one was here. God, the dream had felt so real. I kicked the covers back and padded to my dresser, looking in the mirror. Lifting my chin, I stared at the mark he’d left on me. Cleaner than the jagged one across my head, this one made by a knife, slicing through my skin. I traced my fingers over it. Where was he? Was he ever coming back? I had been dreaming of him since he left. Vivid and intense. Sometimes, I woke up more tired than when I went to bed.

  “Wyn?”

  I screamed in surprise. Julia stood in the doorway.

  “OMG. You scared the bejesus out of me.”

  She half smiled. “Are you okay? It’s 7 a.m. I thought you had a late class today.”

  “I do. Couldn’t sleep. What are you doing up?”

  “I have to study. Another dream?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If he was coming back, you know he would be back.” He had looked so real in my dream, as if he was really there standing in front of me. “Maybe you need to start dating. Find someone new.”

  I made a face and climbed back into bed.

  “For God’s sake, Wyn. No one’s going to measure up if you don’t let them. I’m not even sure what kind of standard you have. He hurt you and then disappeared. You deserve better.”

  I thought of Beck’s letter, of the folded document underneath. Julia didn’t know about that.

  She glared at me one last time and then walked away. I glanced down at my palms. The scars from the glass snaked across them. I didn’t want to forget him, or move on. I wanted to keep dreaming about him. After all, it was only January. He might be home any day now.

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Beck—Preparing

  My yell reverberated in the room and woke me up. Damn! Since leaving, I dreamed of Wynter a lot, most times meeting on the beach. I had been calling something to her when she disappeared, walking up that path. I rubbed my hands over my face. God, I needed to stop this torture. I couldn’t get over her if I kept seeing her.

  Through the heavy wooden shutter, an edge of moonlight skirted in. We were going back in just before daybreak.

  I swung my legs out of bed, pulling on my fatigues, a t-shirt and my combat boots.

  I paused in the dark hallway, unsure of which direction to go. We were staying with a contact of Drew’s, Eamon, who lived in a former drug lord’s compound. Located somewhere outside of Bogota, it was in ruin, half its walls falling down. But the interior remained in working condition. Like me, Eamon left the outside looking decrepit in the hopes of dissuading wayward visitors. Though, to be honest, his looked far worse than my house.

  I pinpointed some voices and followed them upstairs.

  Arguing amiably like old friends, Eamon and Nathaniel had blueprints of the rebel camp, disputing different avenues of attack. We planned to strike in the early morning hours.

  “Finally up, huh?” Quinn was busy pawing through the weapons deposited in the center of the main hall. “I was going to wake you, but you were clearly asleep and dreaming, busy muttering about killing crazy people and going home.”

  I shrugged in answer. Katherine came
by and shoved a hot mug of coffee in my hand, bless her. Quinn pulled an AK-47 out and then a semi-automatic, testing each in his hand.

  I took a large gulp of coffee and surveyed the unpicked weapons. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Fiona and Katherine, faces already painted with camouflage, checking out the machine pistols. Nathaniel joined me, holding out a shotgun. I shook my head and drained my mug. Weapons pick was a personal matter.

  Campbell grabbed the one I refused, offering it to Joanna. She strapped it on her back.

  Though we looked normal enough, we had been trained for combat from the time we were teenagers. We all enjoyed the rush and thrill, the anticipation of a mission brought. Even the more reticent or passive were excited and ready for a fight.

  I grabbed a Gerber combat knife, tucking it into my waistband. As I strapped a smaller one to my leg, I spied a high-tech crossbow. I lifted it, peering through its lens and measuring its weight. I was an exceptional shot, and we needed stealth, at least at the start of this operation. I swung it over my shoulder, along with the arrow container, and slipped a Glock into my holster.

  “Beck?” Quinn called from the window. I nodded approval at my weapons. He tilted his head to the outside. The moon was waning, falling low and slinking toward the horizon. I thought about Wynter. The horizon belonged to her now. I couldn’t look at it without her in my thoughts. I wondered what she was doing.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Wynter—Small Steps

  I rolled over and groaned. Ugh, my head hurt. Damn Sambuca and damn Hailey for convincing us to head up to her parents’ beach house for a party. It wasn’t even warm out. I pulled myself all the way up and staggered to the room Julia and Brian were staying in. I had a vague memory of Brian carrying me upstairs. I knocked quietly.

  “Yeah?” Brian’s voice floated through the door, sounding way more cheerful than I felt.

  “It’s me,” I answered, leaning on the door with my head. Please stop hurting.

  “Oh, the sexy one.” Brian threw the door open, and I almost fell flat on my face. “Well, how ya feeling, Webster?”

  I made it to the bed and flung myself down. “Did I do anything bad?” I remembered dancing.

  “Well, you did almost give it up for that hockey player from St. Lawrence. And he was quite receptive.”

  “Oh God.” I rolled over, burying my head in their comforter. “I’m never doing Sambuca again.”

  “You know what they say, Webster?” Brian volunteered.

  “What?” I mumbled.

  “If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with.”

  “Are you quoting old songs to me?” I raised my throbbing head.

  “Absolutely,” he chuckled in reply, reaching out to ruffle my hair. I dropped my head back down, moaning. I wondered what Beck would think if he saw me now.

  “How bad was I?” Mortified I had to ask. Thankfully, I did wake up with most of my clothes on. The shots had gone down way too quickly and smoothly last night, blocking out thoughts of Beck and all that heartache. But I should have known better.

  Julia got up and grabbed a soda from the cooler on the floor, shrugging as she did so. “Bryan got you upstairs, though you did try to run away. Once.”

  “I caught you.” Bryan smiled triumphantly from the window.

  “God.” I grabbed a pillow and pulled it over my head. How embarrassing.

  “Maybe, Wyn, it’s time to move on.” I pulled the pillow tighter, but Julia yanked the edge down. “He’s not coming back, Wynter.”

  I rolled over and covered my head. I hated the truth, but Julia was right. He wasn’t coming back, no matter how much I wished it or dreamt about him. Weeks were turning into months. The only time I was happy was when I slept and dreamt of him.

  “Hell, you don’t even know where he is.”

  “South America.” Shit. How did I know that? I searched my mind. Did he tell me in a dream? And, if so, why was I repeating it?

  “Wherever he is, he’s not calling you.”

  No, just showing up in my dreams.

  “There are plenty of guys here you could date, guys that would treat you a hell of a lot better.” Julia sounded angry.

  I propped myself up, squinting at her. She rarely lost her temper with me, but even Julia had reached her tolerance point, apparently. “He treated me fine.”

  “Yes, all the way to the hospital,” she retorted.

  “That was a dog that attacked me. It wasn’t his fault,” I lied.

  “Whatever. You still got hurt while with him. Find someone else, like the guy from my class who keeps asking about you. We could double date.”

  “Or the St. Lawrence guy,” Brian interjected, laughing.

  I gave him the finger. My stomach flipped over. “Oh God, do you have a Diet Coke? My stomach feels even worse than my head.”

  “Maybe.” She rummaged through the cooler and held a can out tauntingly. “Agree to the date.”

  “Give it.” I sat up.

  “No. Agree to the date.”

  I stared at her, contemplating who might be quicker at this moment. “All right. Next weekend. Happy?”

  “Thrilled.” She handed over the can. “Also, there’s a message on our home phone from that Corey girl asking about rec league lacrosse. You need to call her back and be the responsible person I know you are. It’s like the tenth message.” I groaned, fighting the urge to collapse back on the bed. Corey had played on our high school team and was now pestering me to join some Sunday night team. I had been avoiding her for two weeks.

  Julia’s face softened. “Didn’t Abby’s grandmother tell you something about moving on? Maybe playing lacrosse is a good step.”

  I stood up, tired of the topic already. “It was ‘letting go,’ and I never should have told you that.”

  Julia waved her hand dismissively. “Moving on, letting go. You’re the psych person. Figure it out.”

  I popped open the tab on the way out the door and fished my phone out of my pocket. Noon here. What time was it in the southern hemisphere? I wondered what Beck was up to. I kept having these dreams with him where he told me he was getting ready. Ready for what? Dreams were so weird.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Beck—Fight

  The copter dropped us two miles out. We hit the ground running coming up on the right of the compound. Scattered over three acres, it was mostly comprised of outlying wooden huts, except for the main two-story building that looked like one decrepit structure glued to another.

  Quinn turned to me. “You ready?”

  I twisted my head until my neck cracked. “Yes,” I answered more assuredly than I felt.

  The others split up, each going to predestined locations Nathaniel and Eamon had picked for the best attack. We needed surprise and stealth to make this work.

  “Watch Fiona’s and Joanna’s backs.” I warned. It had been awhile since I had been on a mission with all of us. I didn’t know if I could stomach seeing people so close to me in the midst of battle.

  Quinn’s blue eyes twinkled in the dark. “You take care of the diplomat and his daughter. I’ll take care of Drew and his crew. The others will take care of the rebels. And somewhere in there will be that fucking bitch. Whoever gets first shot takes it. Don’t hesitate.”

  I set my crossbow and crept forward into position, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “Don’t worry about me. This is one thing I do know how to do.”

  Quinn chuckled then disappeared after the others.

  There was a guard on the west side of the building. I waited and let the arrow fly. He fell quietly to the ground. Dropping the crossbow in the brush, I yanked the knife from my waistband and kept going. I crept forward and through the door. The hallway and stairwell were quiet, strangely quiet. I checked right and left, one hallway after the other, following the maze of pathways down. I had memorized the layout of this building months ago, reliving each moment of the drop and the fatal mistakes that had nearly cost Quinn
and I our lives—had cost Finolli, Unger, and Curtis theirs.

  I turned another right and waited. The holding cells were underground. The smell of dirt and rot became stronger at each turn. I breathed through my nose and peered around the corner. One guard lazed against the wall, smoking, his gun pointed down. He turned left to look down the hall the other way, and I jumped, slicing his neck in one motion. I eased his lifeless body to the ground, avoiding the spurting blood, then grabbed his gun. Twisting the handle of the door quietly and keeping an eye on the hallway, I peered into the room. A heavily armed Colombian sat in front of a bank of screens. I slid in and discharged my gun silently. He slumped over the keyboard. I looked closer. Each of the outbuildings was on camera and monitored. I could see Fiona in the shadows on the east side, waiting for a signal from Nathaniel. The guard fell sideways, an arrow sticking out of his chest, which was all she needed. Fiona swung out of the shadows, opened the hut door, and easily killed the three occupants. She proceeded forward to the next hut. Quinn was working from the north. I identified the diplomat in a hut on the west side, with two guards patrolling the paths around it. Two girls lay chained in a hut on the south side. Damn! Opposite sides of the camp. I gazed from one hut to another. Where was Drew and his crew? And where was Lilly? My gut churned. I flicked the camera settings off and crept out, checking the rooms further down the corridor. Nothing. Strangely, the camp was undermanned. Not a good sign. What was she playing at?

  I killed one guard while exiting the building and kept going toward the diplomat’s hut. I needed to free him and deposit him with Campbell, who waited just on the outskirts of the camp. I convened with Harold. The silencers on our guns made quick work and the guards were dead before they knew it. Harold stood outside as I went in.