“Para ti, vendo por doscientos bolívares.”
“No. Ciento cincuenta bolívares.”
Not haggling? That definitely wouldn’t help me blend in.
“Si.” She gently eases the scarf from its hanger and wraps it in brown paper while I pull out a hundred and fifty bolivars and pass them over.
“Gracias, Señora.”
Best to be seen buying something. It’s good for my cover. Or so I tell myself. I certainly didn’t buy this because it reminds me of Dani and her thinking putty.
The package peeks out of the pocket of my lightweight jacket, and I return to scanning the area. Leo should be here soon, and I head to a bakery a block away. The window’s filled with all sorts of local delicacies. The sight of sweet plantains, arepas filled with fruit and dusted with powdered sugar, cakes, and cookies reminds me I haven’t eaten since the protein bar I had for breakfast.
Neither has Dani.
At the other end of the shop window, Leo pulls out his cell phone and holds it to his ear as he faces away from me. “Want to tell me why we couldn’t just meet at a bar like civilized people?”
“Keep your voice down, asshole. Are you fucking drunk...again? It’s not even six.”
“That’s after five,” he says. “And I don’t work for you anymore.”
“If you’re not careful,” I say as I stoop to get a better look at the tray of flan on the bottom shelf, “you won’t work for anyone soon.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears. Enough with the lecture. What’s so damn important you had to meet like this?”
“Luis Rojas.” Pausing, I take a step closer to Leo and lower my voice. “He’s Dani’s birth father.”
The phone clatters from Leo’s hand, and he scrambles to pick up the pieces. “Fuck.”
I can’t tell if he’s cursing about the phone or Luis, but the ruse is a lost cause, so I mutter, “Follow me but make sure no one’s watching when you do.”
I stride away from the shop, but keep my pace slow. Still just a guy out for a stroll in one of the most dangerous cities in the world—if you’re on the wrong side.
After a few minutes, I find a narrow alley between two buildings. Pulling out my signal scanner, I flick it on and find six different Wi-Fi networks. A second button on the side of Wren’s little invention, and all of them go down as Leo ducks into the alley and limps over to me.
“She’s his spitting image, Leo,” I say as I rake a hand through my hair. “The eyes, the lips... You’d have to be blind to miss it. General Ochoa kicked us out as soon as Luis started talking about his family. His brother was rumored to have been in The Crypt too, but I don’t think that’s why the general ended the interview. I think it’s because he thinks he can use Dani as leverage.”
“So get the fuck out of the country,” Leo says, giving me a look that says he thinks I’m a complete idiot for still being here.
“I would, but Luis...he was one of the original members of the Loma Collectivo. He worked for Jorge Sosa.”
A whistle escapes as Leo shakes his head. “And you want this guy out of prison so you can finally take that organization down.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answer anyway. “Yep. So I need to know how much danger I’m putting Dani in if we decide to go back there tomorrow.”
Leo shoves his right hand into his pocket and leans against the brick wall of the building opposite me. “Gut answer? A hell of a lot. Ochoa’s not someone you mess with. He has the president’s ear, and if he tells Farías that he has a way to get to the Resistencia...you need to get Dani the hell out of here.”
My gut twists, and I finger the scarf in my pocket. Taking down the Loma Collectivo is the biggest failure of my CIA career. They’ve killed hundreds. Probably thousands. We were so close...and then Gil had to turn and spend the last two years of his life working against us from the inside.
“Make some calls,” I say. Leo starts to protest, but I silence him with a shake of my head. “Just do it. I know you’re on your way out, man. But you’ve worked this post forever. You’ve got to have someone on the inside you can trust.”
I don’t look away, determined to win this battle of wills, and after a full minute, Leo swears under his breath and stares down at his scuffed shoes. “Fine. But you owe me for this one.”
“And you owe me for getting you out of that warehouse while you still had one good eye. Do this, and we’re even.” Glancing at my watch, I continue. “At this point, there’s no way we’ll make it through Customs in time for our flight. So we’re staying until tomorrow. If I can get in touch with my former SSO, maybe he can arrange some backup. Or at least start working on a plan to get Luis out of The Crypt from the States.”
“Your mobile secure?” Leo asks.
I snort. “When have you ever known me to take a chance on an open line?”
“Never. Sorry. Long day. Stupid question. I’ll touch base tonight.” Leo holds up a piece of his broken phone. “Once I get this taken care of.”
“Stay safe, Leo.”
“Yeah, right. I’ll do my best.” He limps out of the alley, and I’d bet the thousand bolivars I have hidden in various pockets that he’s going right to the bar. I shouldn’t trust him, but even a drunk Leo Basher was once better than half the spooks in the world stone cold sober.
I hope he still is. Our lives depend on it.
Chapter Eleven
Dani
By the time the electronic door lock disengages, my stomach is in knots and I think I might have actually destroyed this batch of thinking putty. It’s so warm, it’s practically liquid, and bits of it keep sliding between my fingers and down the back of my hand.
After dropping the putty back into its tin, I rush for the door and practically launch myself at Trevor.
“Dani, what the hell? If I’d been a hostile…where’s the damn knife?” Trevor flicks the lock, then the deadbolt, before scooting around me to deposit two plastic bags on the table by the window.
A hint of shame flushes my cheeks, and I glance over at the desk. “I kept it with me while I was working. And I like the forward grip better.”
Trevor freezes, then slowly turns towards me. The heat in his gaze makes my core clench. “You…practiced?” he asks.
With every step, I’m hyperaware of the shrinking distance between us. “The first time I went to Afghanistan, I knew nothing. I don’t think I could have thrown a punch to save my life without breaking my fingers.”
Taking my hand, Trevor runs his thumb over my knuckles, and I try not to let him see how that simple touch is about to reduce me to a puddle of highly aroused goo.
“The guys I was embedded with showed me a few tricks. How to break a choke hold.” I bring the heel of my hand up towards his face, but stop short, my palms itching to feel the stubble on his cheeks. “How delicate a man’s nose really is.”
Trevor threads our fingers and brings our joined hands to his side. “Good men.”
“They were.” We’re so close, his breath warms my face, and I inhale the subtle scent that always lingers on his skin. It’s so light, I never realized it was as ingrained in him as his voice, the intelligence behind his eyes. “When I got back from that assignment, I signed up for an Aikido class. The first time I took a guy to the ground…I was hooked.”
His laughter…it’s rare. Like he doesn’t let himself enjoy many things in this life.
“Why don’t you do that more?” I ask as I skim a light touch over his cheek.
“Do what?”
“Laugh. Relax. Can’t you stop thinking all the time and just…be?”
He takes a step back, and the moment shatters. A string pulled past its breaking point. My brother wasn’t the only casualty five years ago. Something else died along with him. And I’m just now seeing it—the missing piece. Joy. The emotion no longer lives in Trevor’s eyes.
“Pabellón Criollo,” he says as he pulls a Styrofoam container from the first bag. His words are rough, and a muscle in hi
s jaw ticks as he sets two plastic forks on the table, followed by two bottles of water. “It’s the national dish, apparently. You said you ate everything.”
“Except—“
“Zucchini and SpaghettiOs.”
The hole left by the piece of my heart I gave him so long ago aches. “You remembered.”
“I remember everything you’ve ever told me, Dani.” He sheds his light black jacket, and the pistol secured in his chest harness draws my gaze. Followed by the knife under his other arm. As I stare, my mouth slightly open, he looks away. “Sorry. I should have…I don’t know.”
Before I can reply, he escapes to his room, and when he returns without the chest harness, he sets the pistol—now in a holster—on the table, then moves to my mini-fridge.
“Want a beer?” he asks as he crouches in front of it.
“Sure.” I’m not much of a drinker. Hell, before last night, I don’t remember the last time I had a beer outside of work events, but Trevor is pushing every one of my buttons, and I don’t know how much longer I can go without jumping him and begging him to fuck me or losing my patience with him completely.
Tonight, he only pulls a single beer from the fridge. “You’re not having one?”
“Don’t want to compromise my judgment. Or my aim. I’ll stick with the water.”
“Trevor James… Are you calling this,” I gesture between us, “compromised judgement? Because you kissed me before you left this afternoon, and now, you’re bouncing between sexy as fuck and annoying as shit.”
“Danisaur—“
“Don’t call me that. I haven’t been into dinosaurs since I was nine.” Wedging my hands on my hips, I keep the table between us so his amazing scent and all those muscles can’t compromise my thinking.
This time, his laugh doesn’t appear to shock him, but it sure as hell shocks me. “What?”
“Dani, I never called you that because you were into dinosaurs.” When he gets himself under control, the heat in his eyes could melt lead. He circles the table, and when he stops right in front of me, I hold my breath until he pulls me against him and slides his fingers into my hair. His lips are so close I can feel their warmth against my ear. “I call you Danisaur because when you get angry, baby, you roar just like that T-Rex in Jurassic Park.”
Slapping my hands against his chest, I try to shove him back, but he’s too strong, so I huff, which probably doesn’t do much for my case. “I do not.”
“You do.” He slants his lips over mine, and all of my indignation, fear, and frustration fly out the window. For this one moment, all I want to do is feel and pretend that I can have everything I want. With him.
Trevor
If the last kiss left me off balance, this one knocks me on my ass. Dani’s hands flutter over my sides to the bottom of my t-shirt. I’m about to let her pull it off when my phone rings, and she jerks.
“This better be fucking important,” I growl at Leo when I answer.
“You asked me to keep you updated on the weather forecast,” Leo says, an edge to his voice. “Or do you want to be caught with the world’s worst sunburn?”
Shit. He’s talking in code, so he’s somewhere he can be overheard. Or he’s in trouble.
“Did you bring your sunscreen?” I ask as Dani’s brows furrow and she presses closer to me so she can hear his response.
“Got my SPF 50 right here. But you’re going to need something stronger. Those storm clouds you saw earlier are over Miraflores now, and I don’t know what’s going to happen when they move on. Tomorrow’s not going to be a good day to be outside.”
“Message received. Find yourself some shade and stay there, man. Thanks.”
I drop the phone on the table next to the food, then pull out a chair for Dani. “Eat. I’m calling Ford to see how quickly he can get us out of here.”
I dig an earbud from my pocket and sit next to her. I don’t want to hide anything from Dani. She can handle the truth. At least, I hope she can.
“Ochoa went to the presidential complex at Miraflores. That’s what Leo was trying to tell me—if you didn’t pick up on it. So it’s fair to say he knows who you are and thinks you’ll be good leverage to get Luis Rojas to talk.”
Dani swallows hard, her eyes a mix of too many emotions for me to name. “He’s going to kill him, isn’t he?”
I lay my palm up on the table and wait for her to take my hand. “Not if Luis is as strong and as smart as I think he is. Did you see him when they took him away?”
She shakes her head, a whiff of her shampoo wrapping around me. “I was too focused on the asshole dragging me out of the room.”
Tightening my grip, I meet her gaze. “He can’t walk, Dani. Or hasn’t, in a very long time. His shoes were brand new. Not a single scuff of dirt on them—not even the soles. And he didn’t move his legs at all. He’s been in custody for what? Eight months?”
“Close to that, yes.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Why let me talk to him at all?”
I shrug. “Couple of options. First, they knew who you were before we even got on the plane. Though I don’t think that’s it. More likely, they dangled a press interview in front of him like a carrot to try to get something out of him. ‘Just tell us this one thing and we’ll let you see the world above ground.’”
Dani sucks in a sharp breath and yanks her hand away. “And now that they know about me? What will they do to him?”
“Probably nothing until they confirm your DNA and can get you in front of him again. Then...all bets are off. That’s why we’re getting the hell out of here. Ford can arrange a flight for us on a private plane. We’ll have to take the long way home—probably through two or three other South American countries, but it’s the safest thing to do.” I nudge one of the plastic forks towards her. “Eat something. Tomorrow’s going to be a long fucking day.”
I take my own advice as I dial Ford’s emergency number. We all have ‘em. Forwarders that will reach us no matter where we are in the world—and our phones are more secure than any other piece of tech on the market today.
“Trev, what do you need?” Ford asks. A television blares in the background, and I think I hear an announcer call a thirty-seven yard field goal.
“Exfil for me and Dani, ASAP. She’s in danger here, and I don’t want to wait for our commercial flight tomorrow afternoon. Too many risks.”
Dani picks at her shredded beef and fried plantains, disappointment and uncertainty written all over her features, and I reach over and cup her cheek, holding her gaze and hoping I can convince her that everything will be okay if we get out of here quickly.
She gives me a short jerk of her chin towards the phone, then pulls away and stabs a plantain.
“Roger that,” Ford replies. “You have safe transpo from the hotel? Or do I need to send someone?”
“I’ll get us wherever we need to go.“ I don’t trust our rental car—not anymore—but borrowing another won’t be a problem.
“Give me two hours and I’ll have a plan for you. Dax is home, and he can make some calls if I run into any resistance. Just stay safe in the meantime.”
“We’re not leaving the hotel until I know exactly where we’re going. Ochoa might be desperate, but he isn’t stupid. We’ll be fine until we hear from you.”
As the call disconnects, I pray I’m right.
Chapter Twelve
Trevor
Dani and I finish our meal in silence. I don’t know what to say to make things better. To reassure her that I’ll protect her, that I won’t let anything happen to her.
Because I can’t make that promise. We’re only two people against a dictatorship that could easily make both of us disappear forever. I can’t tell her that I lied to Ford—for her benefit and his.
We’re not safe here.
“So what happens now?” she asks as she polishes off her beer and then cracks the seal on the bottle of water. “We take turns on watch or something?”
A chuckle threatens to escape
at the idea of Dani patrolling the hotel room while I sleep. “No. You rest, work on your article, or just watch TV. I keep watch. And wait to hear from Ford.”
“Trevor, I’m not a child.” There’s a petulance to her tone I remember well from high school. “Tell me what’s going on. What’s really going on. One minute we’re kissing, and the next…you close yourself off and go all ‘Liam Neeson I have a particular set of skills’ on me.
“You hired me—“
Dani’s growl of frustration shouldn’t send heat shooting straight to my dick. Or make me wonder what she’d sound like if I planted myself between her thighs and tasted her.
“You’re fired,” she says as she stalks over to me and arches those perfect, dark brows. “That excuse is no longer valid. Try again.”
I can’t find the words to explain the reasons I’m still heavily armed, locked in a Venezuelan hotel room with a woman I’m pretty sure I’ve loved since high school, and not tearing her clothes off. Because they don’t exist. I should be worshipping her body right now, not listening for footsteps out in the hall or checking my phone every five minutes hoping for a message from Ford.
“I’m right here, Trevor. Waiting. Like I’ve been waiting since that night you…the night I wanted…shit.” Swallowing hard, she lifts the hem of her shirt to reveal her tattoo. “Do you know what this is?”
My mouth goes dry, and I reach for the bottle of water and take a long swig. “Yeah. Your true north.”
“Do you know where the coordinates lead?” Her voice is softer now. Almost hopeful. How can I tell her we can’t do this here? For over a decade, we’ve avoided this conversation, because once we have it, there’s no going back.
“The summit of East Rock,” I whisper. Dani’s eyes widen, and I trace the compass rose with my thumb. “Couldn’t sleep last night. Looked it up.”
“When did you—?“ Her cheeks tinge a dusky rose, and she clears her throat. “Oh, God. Sports bra. Tiny shorts.”
Call Sign: Redemption Page 9