“Where’s my dad?”
“Don’t know.” Zeke pulled the laptop onto his thighs and opened it.
“If he doesn’t show—”
“There’s still time.”
Fifteen minutes passed in edgy quiet. The sentinel’s head maintained a swivel. Finally, his lips moved. His head bobbed once, his chest puffed, and a smirk pulled at his cheek. The molten rush of battle coursed through Zeke’s veins. His breathing sped. They were so close to answers and so far away. If Stockton didn’t show, they’d lose their only chance at finding the truth.
“We have the pieces of the puzzle. If he doesn’t show, we can go to the FBI.”
“Right,” he snorted. “If we accuse the president of the United States of trafficking, amassing his own army, and using federal dollars to do it with shattered pieces of a tightly woven enterprise, we’ll die before the sun sets.”
“What about the media?”
“Do you plan on having kids?”
She jerked as though he’d hit her with fifty-thousand volts. “I…don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it. I mean, you have to have sex to get pregnant. I’m twenty-six and it hasn’t happened yet. So…” Her shoulders bounced. “Could I see myself as a mother? Sure. Though, how terrifying would that be. I could also see myself…” The ends of her mouth formed a frown. “You know, just me forever and ever.”
Zeke let that sit for several seconds. As detail oriented as he was, he hadn't seen where that question would lead her. It made his point seem stupid now, but it needed to be made.
“If you did have kids, would you throw them to the wolves?”
Both her cheeks ballooned with air, and then steamed out in a drawn huff. “So, you meant figuratively.” Her arms crossed over her chest, unraveled, and then crossed once more. “If I had kids, no, I wouldn’t throw them to the wolves.”
“Media is out of the question.”
“Then what—”
The whirl of HELO blades cut Greer off.
They watched the sleek black bird glide through the blue sky, and then descend at the center of the lawn. A man with salt and pepper hair exited the side. Constant gusts blew his black suit jacket wide, revealing an intricately gold scrolled Walther PPK and about fifteen extra pounds that the coat concealed rather well.
“Dear old dad?”
“Yeah, dear old dad.”
17
The death of the longest relationship of her life should illicit, at least, some errant tears and, at most, heavy weeping. Greer watched her father cross the lawn, stroll past the shimmering pool—the very spot where her cousin had violated her—and then enter his study through the veranda. Her eyes remained dry, but her vision clouded in a haze of red. Fury beat itself against the front of her skull, creating quite the headache. She gripped the handle and prepared to rip the door off its hinges. To hell with subtlety and tactics.
“You’d never make it to him.” Z’s heavy hand settled on her shoulder.
Why did he always have to be right? Her fists shook with the weight of her burden.
“Let it out.”
“If I do, they’ll know we’re here.”
“We’re far enough away, they can’t hear you.”
“They could today.”
“Fair enough. Channel it, then. Turn all that rage into focus.”
Recycled air tinted with pine filled her lungs. He was right. No losing it now. When she turned toward Z his stormy gaze hovered intently on hers.
“This could go sideways on us in the blink of an eye. I need to know you’re with me.” His five o’clock shadow had turned into a seven or eight o’clock burgeoning beard.
“I’m with you.” She placed her hand on her shoulder atop his.
“Good. Here we go.” His thumb depressed the phone button. Again it rang throughout the car.
The pulse in her ears thundered.
“Greer?”
“Tell your men to leave,” she ordered.
“What?”
“Is it time for a hearing aid, dad?”
“Listen here, little girl.”
“No, you listen. Tell your men to leave or I walk.”
The line went still, but the call time continued ticking. Forty seconds elapsed. Two men materialized from the brush and headed for the garage. The man at the back door met them at the side of the SUV. One by one they slowly piled inside.
“Happy now?” her father snapped.
“I wonder if the FBI would be happy with only half of the evidence.”
“God dammit, girl. Let me talk to the man calling the shots right this minute.”
Z's chuckle sounded rich and imposing. “How small minded of you to think your daughter isn’t in charge, Senator.”
“Who the hell are you?” Her dad asked with such force she wondered if he choked on the receiver.
“That’s a question many have asked over many years,” Z said. “None found the answer. Now, if you don’t mind the sight of dead bodies and have no regard for your own suffering, continue disrespecting your daughter. If you do mind, listen to her.” He smacked the steering wheel and ended the call.
She leaned toward Z. On the top left of the subdivided screen Greer’s dad beat his cell phone against the large mahogany desk. His mouth opened wide and held for what she guessed was a hearty bellow. In two of the other screens guards ran to the noise. He hollered and pointed some more. One hired gun shook his head in vehement opposition. Her dad drew his gun and aimed it at the man’s head.
“No.” Her hand clasped her heart.
The hired gun let his rifle fall to the end of the strap at his side, offered his palms, and walked backward out of the office. His friend beat him out. They grabbed the man making himself at home in the kitchen, spilled out the side door, ran across the wide lawn, and met the SUV half way down the rear drive. After they shuffled in the vehicle lurched forward. It rounded the corner and left a whirling cloud of leaves in its wake.
Greer eased back into her seat and caught her breath. “Have you checked—”
Z pointed to the screen and the feed for the camera he’d set up on the main road through the neighborhood. “They haven’t stopped yet.” He closed the computer and tossed it and the binoculars into the backseat. “I have the motion sensor set on the driveway. If they come back, it will trigger the alarm on my phone.” His hand slid to the handle. “Are you ready to get this wanker?”
“Yes.”
“Are you prepared to hear the answers to your questions?”
“Probably not, but I can’t live with the lies any longer.”
“Then let’s go. If the alarm trips we’ll have thirty seconds to make it out the French doors and behind the row of statues. We stay put until they’re in range, and then light them up.”
“What about my dad?”
“Let me deal with him.”
Greer had witnessed Z’s indifference at taking a life, but could she be dispassionate about him killing her father, if it came to that? The truth, since that’s what she wanted from now on, was she didn’t know. Regardless of her feelings on the matter, she trusted Z. “Okay.” She climbed out the car, placed the Glock from the glove compartment in the rear waistband of her pants, checked the backup at her ankle, and met Z at the front of the car.
They jogged around the edge of the woods, staying just inside the tree line until necessity forced them into the open. From the uptick in Z’s pace she could tell he didn’t like the exposure any more than she. Still he positioned himself in between her and the house. Their path intersected with the east side, the side with the fewest windows, farthest from the garage.
When they reached the house Z slid open the window they’d unlocked during their earlier trip inside, peeked his head in, and then gave her a boost. She placed one foot through the opening and onto the countertop of the master bathroom. After ducking inside, she darted through the bedroom to the hallway and waited. Her ears strained for the slightest sound, but heard none. The house
smelled of cigars and bourbon, just as it had the first time she’d been here. Her stomach tumbled like an Olympic gymnast.
Z’s hand on her nape settled the momentary tailspin. He gave her a little squeeze, and then ducked around her to take the lead. His gun and gaze scanned the room one side to the other. On silent feet he whispered down the long corridor, dodging statues and high-brow paintings of foxes running for their lives while men on overbred horses followed their baying hounds. My, how the tables turned.
At the doorway to the study, Z stalled. He pulled a telescoping mirror from his pocket and positioned it at the bottom corner of the door. One nod told Greer her dad was inside and alone. She scoured the corridor, foyer, and the tip of the stairs visible from their position. All clear. She kept her heartbeat in check and prepared to face her father.
“Stockton, put your Walther on the desk, draw the curtains, step to the front of the desk, and hike your pant legs,” Z hollered.
“I have to give it to you. No one has had the gall to stand up to my brother, not even me.”
“I don’t need your respect, but you need immediate compliance to survive.”
“Hah, survive? You think any of us are going to survive this? He won’t let me live more than a week. A tragic crash will befall me or a heart attack, perhaps.”
His words pricked her hardened heart. Had her father become a victim in this as much as she? Z pinned her with a quelling look before snapping his head back to the mirror. Maybe she’d stiffened or whimpered, but he’d known instantaneously that she’d softened. She scanned the perimeter and refocused her attention.
“Those will end you quickly,” Z warned.
“But you won’t?” her dad called. “Not to worry. I’d like to set the record straight before I go. If anyone can thwart my brother, I suppose it’s you, Wraith. That’s what they call you isn't it? They can’t find out your real name. They can’t tie you to an organization. So, they call you the bringer of death and destruction.”
“How sweet. Get those pant legs higher and hold them there. Any sudden movement and you’ll regret it.”
Z dropped his left hand in a flat palm, commanding her to stay put. A part of her sighed a long note of relief. The other part howled at her own weakness. He shoved the mirror into his pocket and stepped around the corner with his Glock high and tight.
“I ask, you answer. That’s how this goes—or it doesn’t.”
“You’re bigger than I expected,” her dad said.
“Why did you have your daughter abducted?”
Even though she’d voiced this thought earlier, the statement jerked her up by the collar, constricting the flow of air to her lungs.
“You waste your first question on my daughter. Intriguing. Whoa, now.” His voice rose an octave. “Yes. Yes, all right. I tried to protect her, but she held delicate family secrets, ones I hid as long as I could. Only, she wasn’t the only one who knew the hideous truth. When one of those involved has a sudden crisis of conscious you can’t plan for it. You deal with the storm and its aftermath.”
“What made Greeson grow a conscience?”
Greer’s stomach settled atop her pelvis. She drew breath through her open mouth and blinked back stinging tears.
“He was married two years ago and two months ago welcomed a daughter into the world. Children give you a whole new perspective on the world. He told my brother, and of course, the mess needed containment. He’s tossed his hat in for another term, you see.”
“You sided with Grieves over your daughter by keeping it a secret fourteen years ago. Why?” Z veritably roared the question. Greer jumped at the sound, forced another scan of her perimeter, and waited for the answer.
“It was either deal with my daughter’s battered emotional state and keep her as far away from Greeson as possible or deal with her funeral. I chose the one I could handle best.”
Had he really cowed her in order to save her life?
“What happened to make you believe her life was in jeopardy?”
“It’s not relevant. Wait!” her dad cried. “I have evidence in my suit pocket that proves my brother stole funds from the American people and funneled it into US Elite to use as his own personal military. He controls their every move, where they go, who they conquer.” Silence followed. “Oh God, no. You don't need that.”
Greer couldn’t hold still any longer. She leaned her right eye to the edge of the frame and peeked inside the room. Z slowly screwed a black barreled silencer onto the end of his gun.
“Okay. Okay.” Her dad flailed his hands about. “Grieves killed my wife when my daughter, his niece, was an infant.”
She straightened, and then sagged against the wall. Why?
“Why?” Z snarled.
“It was all a horrible accident. My Rachel picked up the phone to dial her mother, but Grieves and I were on the line. He started talking about that night, the night we never spoke of, the night that started this unbearable chain. You see, Grieves decided to run for the Senate, and he was afraid the woman would come forward. Money bought her silence for so long, but he wanted a more permanent solution. He knew a guy, but he needed me to make contact. He couldn’t dirty his hands.”
Her dad sighed. “Neither of us knew Rachel had heard the conversation, but when she left me the next day, took Greer to her mother’s, and told me she was never coming back, I knew.” A sob broke and she was surprised to find it wasn’t her own, but her dad’s. “I guess he had my house bugged. To this day I don't know how he knew, but he found her at a rest area halfway to her mother’s house nursing Greer. He snapped my wife’s neck and left Greer for dead.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“That night, when Rachel didn’t show at her mother’s, she called me concerned. My wife told her she was coming to show off her baby. Grieves said it was the only reason he spared my wife’s family. He told me where to find my wife and daughter, fully expecting them to both be dead, but the car had been running. The heater kept her warm until it ran out of gas, but it was long enough.”
The sound of a grown man’s weeps funneled out into the hallway and cloaked her in sorrow.
“I was so enraged. I was going to tell, to hell with what happened to me as long as Grieves went down too, but then I looked at my daughter’s rosy little cheeks and I knew he’d kill her and Rachel’s entire family before we even went to trial. I knew I had to protect my daughter by whatever means necessary.”
“Who was the woman?” Z asked.
“A co-ed he’d raped at our alma mater. Her name was Anita Price, and I had her killed.”
“You said you were ready to tell, to hell with what happened to you. What was your part in her rape?”
“I gave her a line of cocaine and was so high myself, that when Grieves…when he started in on her I watched the whole thing and cheered him on.”
Greer was so numb the words hit her like individual fists, but the blows only echoed in the distance.
“What about the Stas?”
“To vanquish my demons I tried bargaining with the devil. I corrupted politicians, bought favors, and eliminated anyone who got in their way. In turn, they protected me and my daughter until Grieves became the president. He one-upped me, and before I knew it, turned the tide. Suddenly the place where I’d maneuvered my daughter to keep her safe was enemy territory and there was nothing I could do.”
“Nothing?” Z snorted.
“You don’t realize it yet, but we’re all dead. You can’t go against my brother and win.”
“You’re wrong.” Greer surprised herself by stepping around the corner with her head held high. “Your brother can’t go up against us and win because, no matter the cost, we won’t give up until he’s stopped.”
Z’s focus remained on her dad, but his shoulders stiffened.
“I hope you’re right, Greer.” Her father looked as though he’d aged ten years since he’d hurried from the HELO across the lawn.
“Tell me, Dad, what did you
plan to do if I showed up alone?”
“I’d planned to have them ferry you out of the country, but once I saw them I second guessed the idea. You alone with six armed men seemed as dangerous as handing you over to Grieves.”
“I’ve spent the last six years of my life surrounded by armed men.”
“We need to move,” Z announced. “If they weren’t loyal to you, they’ve probably contacted your brother by now.”
“They were loyal to the check. I promised to pay them the full amount to leave.” The man she shared DNA with, but little else, gulped a breath. “I really do have evidence. It’s on a flash drive in my top coat pocket.”
Z lifted two fingers and pointed to the breast pocket. “Use two fingers, reach slowly, show it to me front and back, and then toss it to Greer.”
As ordered, he moved with extreme caution. When Z nodded at the small silver device, her father threw it in a low arch. Z snagged it out of the air and shoved it in the cargo pocket of his pants. “I didn’t think you’d explode your own daughter. Me,” he shrugged, “you probably wouldn’t have any qualms about incinerating. If this is a tracer, I’ll have it disabled before we leave the grounds.”
Her dad shook his finger at Z as though speaking to a child. “It’s not a bomb and it’s not equipped with a tracking chip. It’s probably the only thing that’s kept me alive all these years.”
“Does your brother know you have it?” Z asked.
“No, but he knows it’s possible, and that’s been enough.” He wiped beads of sweat from his forehead.
“That, and your shared skeletons.” She couldn’t keep the accusation from her voice.
“And that.” His head hung in a downcast nod.
The muscles in Z’s shoulders rolled.
Greer looked at the man who’d protected her life and at the same time neglected to nurture it. The love and loyalty she’d lived by all her years, through trial and terror, faded under the harsh light of reality. She wanted to tell her dad to come with them, that they’d get through this together, but her mouth refused to form the words.
Z shifted toward the door, but stopped. His shoulders rolled. The barrel of his gun lowered ever so slightly. “Senator, you breathe a hint of this to the president, US Elite, Stas, anyone, and you’ll beg me to take you to prison.” He tugged down the collar of his shirt until the top of his gnarled skin appeared. “I’ll make the shit the Stas did to me look like pre-school finger painting.”
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