Call Sign: Redemption

by Eddy, Patricia D

  “Also known as Hell,” I mutter.

  “Excuse me?” Anger replaces her embarrassment, and this time, I can’t control my laughter. “Trevor, I have worked damn hard at the gym every single—“

  She falls silent when I run my hands down her sides to her hips and then curve my fingers over her ass. “Dani, you’re gorgeous. You’ve always been gorgeous. There is no size or shape you could ever be that I wouldn’t want. That’s why this is hell.”

  “I don’t understand. You walked away. All those years ago, you didn’t want anything to do with me. You never showed up.” The confident, take-no-shit reporter is gone, and in her place is a woman I fear I made doubt her own worth.

  I want to hit something. Go find a punching bag and beat the shit out of it. Or even better…find someone to beat the shit out of me for ever giving her that impression. “I was scared, baby. Fuck that. I was terrified.” I lead her over to the bed and pull her down so we’re sitting hip to hip.

  With her hand in mine, I stare at our linked fingers. “Gil and Austin were my best friends. Both of them were overprotective as fuck where you were concerned.”

  “Like you were any different,” she scoffs.

  “No, I wasn’t. Gil and I…we got into more than one fight over him ghosting you.”

  “You never told me that.” She peers up at me like I just gave her the world, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on without shattering that hope, that light.

  Smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear, I frown. “I never told you a lot of things, Dani. And that wasn’t right. Hell, Austin doesn’t even know everything.”

  She shoves at me—gently, but still with displeasure. “We’re family…”

  “No.” That word…it stings. Even though I’ve come to think of Second Sight as my family, that took almost losing them to accept. Standing, I start to pace the room. “You and Austin and Gil were a family. I was always the poor foster kid who inserted himself into your lives because he didn’t have anyone else.”

  “You were never that,” she snaps. “How could you think any of us felt that way?”

  “Shit. How did I never see it?” My voice isn’t much above a whisper as the realization takes hold and I stop, my back to her, every single interaction I had with Gil after he joined the CIA now suspect.

  “See what?” Dani’s close enough for me to feel her warmth in the chill of the room’s air conditioning, but she doesn’t touch me. Just waits for me to make the next move.

  “Gil. He…” I shake my head. I don’t want to do this to her, but it’s either this or let her think she did something—anything—wrong all those years ago to make me not want her.

  I turn to face her, my hands on her waist. I don’t know if I’m holding her for my benefit or hers. “I didn’t show up that night because Gil called me. He said he’d talked to you and you were sorry you ever got me involved. That you should have kept your problems ‘in the family.’”

  Dani’s brows shoot up, then she sucks her lower lip between her teeth and closes her eyes. “I never said that. I never even talked to him.” Her body shudders, and the sound that escapes is almost a sob. “I wanted you. Needed you. And when you didn’t show up, I thought you didn’t want me.”

  “I know, baby. I know now. And I’m…fuck. I was an idiot.” Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her close and breathe in the scent of her hair. “I loved you, Dani. That night…walking away from you…that was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and the biggest regret of my life. And if I had it to do all over again, I never would have let you go.”

  Dani’s voice is muffled against my shirt, but every one of her words hits me right in the heart. “So fix it.”

  “What?” Drawing back, I smooth my hand over her hair, relishing the way the silky strands feel between my fingers. We shouldn’t be doing this now.

  “Fix. It.” Dani offers me a weak smile. “We’re both here. Now.”

  I cup her cheek. “Dani, when we fix this—and it will be when, not if—we’re going to be safe. Every moment we spend this close is a moment I’m not at the top of my game. A moment I could be distracted. A moment that could get one of us killed. I’d never forgive myself if I couldn’t protect you.”

  Dani swallows hard and takes one step away. Then another, and crosses her arms over her chest. “Promise me you won’t pull another disappearing act when we’re back in the States.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  One thing you master both in the army and the CIA? How to fall asleep in seconds. Wherever you are. Because even a few minutes of sleep can save your life. What I wouldn’t give for all the tricks I learned back then to work now.

  Two hours of staring at the ceiling is enough, and I head to my mini-fridge for a bottle of water. After I crack the seal, I check on Dani through the crack in the adjoining doors. I want to be next to her. Sleeping soundly after long hours spent making up for lost time.

  But when she got into bed and patted the mattress next to her, I had to turn her down. “When we spend the night together, Danisaur, it’s going to be just the two of us. Safe. Alone. For as long as we need for…everything.”

  And now, she’s curled on her side, holding a pillow to her chest. Her skimpy tank leaves little to the imagination, and those tiny pink shorts? Fuck. They were almost enough to make me lose my resolve right then and there.

  I can’t keep watching her sleep like a creepy stalker. And the stress of the day—and of the phone call I had with Ford a few hours ago—are starting to take their toll. Setting the bottle down on the nightstand next to my gun, I climb into bed and stretch out on my back.

  Just five more hours. At 7:00 a.m., we can find a clean car and start driving. Two hours later, we’ll be at the General Bartolomé Salom airport, where Dax managed to wrangle us a flight to Belize. Once we’re there, we should be safe enough to take a commercial flight back to Boston.

  My lids are too heavy to keep open, and as I fade into sleep, my sluggish mind sets off warning bells I can’t ignore, but also can’t seem to muster enough energy to care about.

  A high-pitched sound rouses me, and I struggle to open my eyes. Something’s wrong. I roll over, my muscles sluggish. The clock on the nightstand reads 3:04 a.m. I’ve only been asleep for forty-five minutes, and I can’t fully wake up. Another sound—this one I recognize as Dani whimpering—and I try to stand, but my legs catch in the sheets. I hit the ground and yank open the nightstand drawer to reach for my emergency medical kit.

  My fingers are slow and unwieldy, but I manage to extract the syringe of adrenaline and fumble for the cap. It lands silently on the carpet, and I jab the needle deep into my outer thigh.

  Within seconds, my heart rate spikes, and sweat prickles the back of my neck. But my thoughts start to clear, then ping wildly.

  The water. Dani and I both had a bottle earlier, but those came from the store. Not the fridge. When we got back…I checked the doors. I didn’t check the windows. Fuck. There’s only one reason to drug me. To get to her.

  Pulling my gun from the holster, I lurch to my feet. The room tilts on its axis, but I will it to stop and head for Dani. A thud from beyond the adjoining door is followed by a muffled cry, then a muttered oath—in a male voice.

  The part of me that’s falling in love with her wants to tell her I’m coming. The trained assassin? He doesn’t make a sound. Creeping forward, I let out a controlled breath, trying to slow my heartbeat. Adrenaline doesn’t make for steady hands, but it’s better than being too drug-addled to see straight. My bare foot touches the cracked door, and I nudge it open another inch.

  Fuck. In the slight glow from the desk lamp, two men flank Dani’s bed, one of them holding a rag over her mouth as she struggles not to breathe. Her lids are heavy, despite the panic flooding her eyes.

  Training takes over. I brace my shoulder against the wall and fire. Four shots. Head, center mass, head, center mass, and both of the men collapse without a sound. Dani manages to shove t
he rag away, but when she tries to push the sheet off of her body, her eyes roll back in her head and she moans quietly.

  I clear the room, scanning every corner and the bathroom before I step over one of her attackers, grab her arm, and drape it over my shoulder. “We have to get out of here, Dani. Right fucking now.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dani

  My head pounds like someone used it to play basketball, and I want to throw up. The stench of blood—harsh and coppery—is all I can smell, and as Trevor lifts me to my feet, I realize why.

  It paints the wall behind me. Dots my forehead and chest. I think there’s a drop in my eye. And, oh God. What’s that on my cheek? It’s…sticky.

  “Trevvvvv.” My stomach pitches, and I push away from him, fall to my knees, and vomit.

  “Dani. Sweetheart.” He’s next to me, brushing my hair away from my face. “We can’t stay here, baby. I’m going to pick you up now, okay?”

  “I…donnn…can’t…” I retch again, but push up and grab Trevor’s arm. “T-tabllllet.

  Shit. My words don’t even make sense to me, how the hell is he supposed to understand? He scoops me into his arms and carries me out of my room and into his where he sets me on the bed. “I’ll get your stuff. Sit here and do not move.”

  My vision is hazy, but I reach for a bottle of water on his nightstand to rinse out my mouth, and he slaps it away. “No!”

  “Trev…?”

  Warm hands cup my cheeks, and I smell gunpowder. “It was drugged, Dani. I barely made it in there in time. We have maybe five minutes before the National Police show up. I need to get you some clothes and then we’re getting out of here. But I can’t do that if I have to worry about you moving from this spot.”

  “I can help.” My mind’s starting to clear slightly, and my words are sharper. Still slow, still hard to force out, but adrenaline is taking over.

  “No.” He doesn’t give me a moment to argue, instead rushing back into my room where I hear him shoving stuff into my backpack. Wiping the back of my hand over my cheeks, I come away with streaks of blood, and my stomach roils.

  He just shot two men. Two men who were going to take me somewhere I might never have escaped from. The horror of our situation settles over me, and my eyes start to burn. But I can’t cry. I won’t. I have to pull myself together so we can get out of here.

  Trevor’s jacket is draped over a chair, and I shrug into it, letting his scent replace that of the blood and calm me. Shoes. I need shoes. Well, pants too, but definitely shoes.

  “Come on, Dani,” he says as he crosses back into the room to find me halfway to the adjoining door. “Shit. I told you—“ Shaking his head, he mutters something I can’t quite hear, then shoulders his duffel bag. “We’re heading for the service elevator, then to Leo’s place.”

  His words are coming so quickly, they almost blend together, and he takes my hand and leads me into the dimly lit hallway. We jog to the stairwell, and as soon as the door closes behind us, Trevor pulls out a small tool—almost like a screwdriver—and jams it between the door and the frame. “This will slow them down,” he explains, then drops my backpack and rummages inside before finding a pair of pants and my running shoes. “Put these on.”

  As I do, he shoves his feet into boots and straps on his chest harness, then pulls a linen button down shirt from his bag to cover up his weapons.

  “Look at me, Dani.”

  I do, and he takes the edge of the black jacket I’m wearing and swipes it over my left cheek, then my chin.

  “Okay. That’s most of the blood. Did they hurt you? Can you run?”

  “I can rr-run,” I say, though I don’t know how he can understand me as my teeth have started to chatter. The stairway is air-conditioned, but it’s not warm, and in the back of my mind, I know this is shock setting in.

  Keep it together, Dani.

  Trevor cups the back of my neck, pulls me close, and kisses me with such fervor, for a second, I forget someone just tried to kidnap me. “You’re okay, baby. I promise. And I’m going to keep you that way.”

  Before I can respond, Trevor hoists my backpack and his duffel bag again, takes my hand, and leads me down the stairs and out into the warm, humid night.

  Trevor

  The hotel backs up to an alley, and we rush alongside the building until we come to the corner, then I pull Dani against my left side and scan the street. At the far corner of the hotel, a white van idles. All of its lights are off, but the street lamp illuminates the exhaust coming out of the tail pipe.

  “Other way,” I whisper, and we hurry south. This street is busier, even at 3:00 a.m. I don’t see any obvious threats, but my racing heart and the impending crash I know is coming don’t leave me very confident in my own abilities. “Keep watch for anything or anyone who stands out. I need to find us a car.”

  Ten minutes later, we’re in a ruddy brown pick-up heading for the outskirts of Caracas. Once I unlock my phone, I toss it to her. “Find Leo’s number and put it on speaker.”

  “This better be a goddamn emergency,” he slurs when the call connects.

  “Sober up, asshole. Someone just tried to kidnap Dani. We’re on the move. I need somewhere safe for us to hole up for a few hours. I won’t make it to Puerto Cabello without sleep.”

  “I’m not drunk,” he mutters, then rattles off an address. “You bring the National Police to my doorstep, and I’ll kill you myself.”

  “Fuck you too,” I say and then nod at Dani to end the call. Before I can open my mouth again, she’s entering the address into the GPS.

  “Make a left at the next stoplight.” I do, and she pulls her knees up to her chest. “Are you sure you can trust Leo?”

  “As sure as I am about anything right now.”

  “That’s not an answer.” Clutching the phone in one hand, she uses the other to hug herself tightly. The uncertainty in her voice leaves me completely off balance—or maybe that’s just the epinephrine shot wearing off. Or both.

  “I know. We’ll be back in the States in eighteen hours, and then we’ll be safe.”

  “And what about Luis Rojas? He won’t be safe.” With a quick glance at the phone, she adds, “Take the next right and then keep going for another six kilometers.”

  “There’s enough on the tape from the interview for me to contact my former handler. Taking down the Loma Collectivo would make his entire career.” Bitterness creeps into my tone, and I shake my head. Big mistake. Pain lances through my temple, and I wince.

  “What’s wrong?” Dani scoots closer on the bench seat and touches my arm.

  “I’m fine, baby. It’s just the epi wearing off.” I realize my mistake as soon as the words escape my lips. Her eyes widen, and I shift my grip on the steering wheel so I can take her hand. “Someone drugged the water in my fridge—yours too, probably. They were careful. Must have come in through the window or the air vents, because my tripwires were all in place over the doors when we got back. Luckily, I didn’t drink much of it. But when you screamed and I woke up, I knew. Gave myself a shot of adrenaline.”

  “Oh, God.” She pulls her hand from mine and shrinks against the seat. As if the memories of the attack are finally registering, she starts to shake. “You…killed them.”

  I can’t apologize for shooting those bastards. I won’t. I kept her safe. Alive. But the horror in her voice…if I’ve lost her…

  “I’d do it again,” I say quietly and ease the phone from her hand to check the GPS. Only another two kilometers, and we can both rest. There’s no one else on the road with us right now, so at least I know we’re not being followed. “Nothing matters to me but you, Dani.”

  We don’t speak again until we reach a little house in a quiet neighborhood on the west side of Caracas. Leo’s sitting on his front steps and pushes to his feet when the truck starts to slow. He directs me to pull between his house and the neighbor’s, then park in a tiny backyard full of dead grass.

  I almost fall when I get out o
f the truck. My head pounds and my legs feel like they’re about to give out, but I force myself to keep moving and grab our bags, then head around for Dani. She’s unsteady on her feet as well, but she doesn’t protest when I wrap my arm around her.

  “I set you up in the basement,” Leo says as he leads us inside. “Water, protein bars, a full med-kit, blankets, and an air mattress.”

  Just past the kitchen, he kicks a rug to the side to reveal a trap door. I reach down and pop the metal hasp, then raise the wood panel. A set of stairs leads to a brightly lit space that clearly doubles as his communications center. A laptop, widescreen monitor, and weapons locker line one wall. In the opposite corner, there’s a small bathroom, and Dani makes a beeline for it, not saying a word to me.

  “You aren’t here,” he says as he takes the last two steps with a grunt and then heads for the laptop. “If you need to contact your people, you can use my setup, but make goddamn sure you’re masking your signal.”

  After writing down a fifteen digit password, he presses the paper into my hand. When I meet his gaze, I realize he was telling the truth. He’s sober.

  “Thanks, man.” I stop him when he starts to turn away. “Leo, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I owe you for this one.”

  “I made it pretty damn easy for you.” With a lopsided grin, he shrugs. “I’m getting the hell out of here, Trevor. Two weeks. Maybe less. I’m too old for this shit, and the chances of Ochoa not putting the pieces together and tracking me down eventually are slim to none. So you owe me nothing. Just get the fuck out of here and back to the States safely and we’ll call it even.”

  He claps me on the shoulder once, then limps back up the steps and shuts the trapdoor.

  Dani

  In the tiny bathroom, I take one of the hand towels and start scrubbing my face as hard as I can. I want the memory of the blood and bits of—oh, God, is that brain matter?—off my skin.