Stryker (Books 1 & 2) (Atrox Security)

by J. C. Cliff

  I scratch at my head. “Valerie’s really got herself wrapped up in some shit.”

  “Another angle to consider is perhaps Celia has been dipping into her best friend’s inheritance behind her back while being involved in something illegal.”

  I nod my head, agreeing. “True, or they’re both involved in some sort of conspiracy, not just Celia.” Then, something else dawns on me. “Does the FBI think there was foul play of any kind? You know, for the insurance money?”

  “It’s highly unlikely, given it was a genuine accident, but we have a lot of digging to do. Either way, too much money has been funneled in and moved around in too short of a timeframe. One, or both, of them are getting ready for something, and with the amount of money we’re talking about, it’s something big. With both women leaving the country in a few days, red flags are going up left and right. So we have to follow them, sleep with them if we have to, get under their skin, into their hearts, do anything and everything we can to find out what the little ladies are up to.”

  “How much money are we talking about here?”

  “Millions.”

  CHAPTER 12

  ~ Stryker ~

  After Travis and Quinn finished debriefing both Hunter and me, we took a small break for lunch, and now we’re back at it. Each of us has been delegated to accomplish certain tasks to prepare for the trip coming up. I’ve been sitting for so long today my legs couldn’t take it anymore. So now I’m standing, hovering over the conference table with a topographical map of Panama lit up on my laptop screen. I’m having to study where our mission’s camp will be, as well as what exactly borders the area so I can be familiar with the region. One damn thing’s for sure: there’s a whole lot of jungle, and Columbia is way too close to camp for my liking.

  Quinn comes to stand beside me and leans over the table, resting his hand beside my laptop. As he studies the lay of the land with me, he warns, “There isn’t going to be much backup on the front end, if any. I’ve got a few contacts in South and Central America in case you need immediate support while you’re there. My plan is to program your SAT phones this afternoon with contact points should you not be able to get ahold of me on our secure line. I’m waiting on a few more phone calls to roll in before I finish setting things up.”

  I look over at him, and notice faint, dark circles lining his eyes. “Did you even sleep last night?” I ask incredulously.

  “Very little, it’s catching up to me, but I’m a stubborn bastard. Got too much to do.” He waves me off, getting back to business. “Travis and I have been thinking of every safety net possible to keep you and Hunter protected. I’ve also been working through all the red tape for getting the Panamanian Government to sanction the weapons we need.”

  “Yeah, it wouldn’t look too good if I were to put a hundred rounds of ammo in my duffle bag, would it?” I ask with a grin.

  “Homeland security would sure as hell shit their pants if they saw you coming, wouldn’t they?” he replies with a smile.

  “I’m pretty sure it’d be the other way around. I would not find that shit funny.”

  “Nor would I,” Quinn says with a serious glance from the corner of his eye. “Everything about this trip has to look normal. Since Hunter is leaving in two days, he’ll be getting there ahead of everyone else. He’s going to be the one transporting the weapons, and the only people who will know about it will be our government and theirs.”

  “What about the escort from the airport to the mission camp, since I’ll be with both women? I’m going to need something.”

  Quinn shakes his head, looking even more serious. He gestures for me to take a seat. This doesn’t look good, so I follow his lead and sit down beside him. “What do you mean, no? Surely I’m going to be able to get my hands on at least one firearm once I land, right?”

  “I’m afraid not, and we can’t pull in any extra security than what has already been organized by the Global Mission Company. Otherwise, we might raise some eyebrows.”

  “Just how much security are we talking about?” I ask, already knowing I’m not going to be happy with the answer.

  “Everything needs to appear as normal as possible.” Quinn studies me for a beat, his face solemn as if he’s sending a son off to war.

  “Quinn…” I warn.

  “Two, dammit. We only have two Panamanian military soldiers who will be your escort,” he blurts out, knowing I’m not going to be happy about this.

  “You’re shitting me, right?” I know their security forces can only perform limited actions, but… seriously? Two soldiers.

  “I wish I were,” Quinn sighs in disappointment, “but the way you and Hunter are slipping in undercover with your credentials, nobody is going to suspect a damn thing. I feel very confident nothing will unravel while two busloads of volunteers are being transported to camp.”

  He’s most likely right about that. “We don’t even know who or what our enemy is, and we could be totally off-base and nothing may unravel at all on this trip.”

  Quinn scratches at his scruff as he ponders my words. “You’re exactly right, but it’s our job to keep a twenty-four-seven tail on those ladies. They are our only leads at the moment, and they might be the only thing linking us to the pot of gold.”

  “I’ve heard of stranger things than women laundering money,” I muse. “Usually it’s a man’s game, so it could be the perfect disguise.”

  “Could be—or they could be working for someone else, because nobody needs to move that much money around. Nobody.”

  “Well, we all know when it comes to greed too much is never enough. People don’t know when to stop, especially when they're ahead of the game. Greed coils around them like a snake, wringing their souls dry. That’s when shit usually starts to crumble around them.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?” Quinn leans forward, acting as if he has a secret to tell me. “Look, I know you and Hunter already know these things, but I have to say it anyway,” he starts in a low, hushed tone. “Everyone, and I mean everyone, from civilians, military personnel, and the police, on both sides of the border….” He pauses and shakes his head, his expression troubled. “Stryker, we can’t trust anyone—not with anything. There’s no way to know who might be dirty and tip off the wrong people.”

  “Understood. Things could turn catastrophic in a heartbeat.” I’m aware of all this, and he knows it, but it’s eating at him nonetheless. Going out of country always puts me on edge, and judging by the look of concern on Quinn’s face, his steely blue eyes say it all.

  “Yes, they can, and I don’t like us being so far apart.”

  “That makes two of us.” We could wind up finding ourselves at the mercy of an unforgiving power should something go awry, and even then, we’d have to keep our lips sealed. The thought of being away from American security is eerie as hell, spooks the shit out of me, but I guess that’s why we make the big money.

  Quinn’s serious tone is concerning, and I get it—I do. I try to not think about all the shit that can go wrong as Hunter and I embark on the unknown. I think once a man has a family, they realize they’re not so invincible like they had once thought. They have others to think about besides themselves for a change. Quinn, however, has an old soul. He’s a badass killer, fiercely loyal to his men, yet he can display the side of a hopeless romantic that few ever get to see. Come to think of it, Travis is that way too. Hunter and I are the ones who have given up on the romantic shit.

  Ranger comes up beside me and nudges my arm, wanting my attention. I crane my neck to the side and smile, giving him a pat on the top of his head.

  “Uncle Quinn better make sure you practice safe sex while I’m gone,” I tell Ranger. “He doesn’t know you’ve had your heart set on his girl Kimber for a while now,” I add with humor, trying to lighten the mood. “Or by the time I get back, we’ll have baby Rimbers on the way.”

  Quinn cracks a grin and rolls his eyes at me.

  “Hey, you guys starting the party without u
s?” Travis asks, as he and Hunter filter back into the room. They each take their designated seats at the table.

  “The party's just getting started,” I reply. “We’re in round two of the debriefs.”

  “Dammit, you guys know I don’t like open drinks in this room,” Quinn whines. “I’ve got too much equipment in here, and I swear if one of you spills, I’m gonna be super pissed.”

  “Yes, Dad,” Hunter says, while half saluting. Quinn lips thin in irritation while all of us ignore his wishes; we always do.

  Travis pulls out his notebook and sets it on the table in front of him then clicks his pen several times for something to do. Even though he’s good with computers, he still likes to keep his to-do list on paper. He flips through a couple pages, and still looking at his notes, he says, “We’ve been so busy gathering intel and going over the nuts and bolts of this mission that we haven’t had time to bring you and Hunter up to speed on Celia’s background. Of course everyone here already knows of Celia’s sexual preferences, but we haven’t really given you much of her history.”

  Travis jots down a quick note, then continues, “Celia had moved in with Valerie shortly after she lost her husband in the car accident. Valerie wound up inheriting a fairly large house since her husband was into construction. He obviously had a very lucrative business and left her very well off, I might add.” The man’s money is still a huge sore point with me. I shouldn’t allow it to get under my skin, but it does. Each time I hear about it, it makes me wonder about so many things, like if she ever truly loved me at all, or if she was just a gold digger laying in wait, using me as a stepping stone for sex and companionship until someone with deeper pockets and prestige came along.

  Travis’s voice fades back in, and I realize I zoned out and missed half his sentence. “…so it saved a lot of time last night when we only had to install cameras into one house instead of two.”

  At that moment a faint chime rings out on Quinn’s cell. He unclips the phone from his belt then swipes at the screen. He gets up from the table to grab his wireless keyboard from his computer desk and brings it back to the table. Sitting down beside me again, he begins tapping on the keyboard, looking fully immersed.

  “What is it?” I ask, curious. “What’s going on?”

  “That was an activity alert. Looks like your sleeping beauty just woke up.” He gives me a sideways glance, a slight grimace playing on his lips.

  “Spill it, Quinn,” I demand, knowing he’s holding something back.

  His eyes shift back to the large fifty-inch screen on the wall while he types away. All of us watch the screen with rapt attention as it comes to life. “I’ve had to bring on a fifth wheel for the next few days to help monitor both the women. There was no way in hell Travis and I could keep an eye on them while having to organize this trip.”

  “Understandable,” I murmur, still waiting for him to elaborate.

  “Well, knowing what I know now—about you getting the wrong client last night as well as learning about the history between you and Valerie—it all makes sense.”

  “What makes sense now?” I ask impatiently.

  “Todd Jameson has been the one observing both women since we had surveillance set up in their house last night. He was concerned about Valerie’s behavior, because the second she came home, she fell apart emotionally. Said she cried inconsolably until she exhausted herself to sleep. Celia arrived home some time later, but Valerie wouldn’t talk to her. So I asked Todd to alert me when Valerie started to stir.”

  “Damn,” Hunter comments, while looking at his wristwatch, “sleeping beauty is right. It’s damn near one in the afternoon.”

  Well, shit. Don’t I feel bad now. I didn’t think I got to her, and I sure as hell didn’t think she had any sort of feelings left for me; that’s for damn sure.

  My eyes flick from Quinn’s to the large screen, and I watch as she stretches awake. To my amazement, the resolution is coming in crisp and clear. Her bed sheet is twisted around her waist as she showcases a thin, light blue negligee with lace low across her full breasts, and my lungs squeeze. Her long, thick, brown-and-blonde streaked hair is strewn all over her pillow in a sexy mess, and I’d love nothing more than to climb into that bed with her.

  I almost feel like a creeper watching her without her knowing about it. Well, I guess I am a creeper, but right now it’s our job to be creepers, so it’s justified. Everyone falls silent as we watch this beautiful woman, who was once mine, slowly roll out of bed. She saunters off in matching blue silk shorts, her fine ass sashaying as she makes her way to the bathroom. I almost feel as if I’m in the same room as her, but when the bathroom door slams shut, it jerks me out of the daydream. The guys and I are left staring at each other in silence, and with them seeing how gorgeous she is on the live screen and not in some grainy photograph, I think it’s now beginning to sink in just how hard this job is going to be for me.

  CHAPTER 13

  ~ Stryker ~

  A few more keystrokes on Quinn’s laptop and he brings up about twelve different rooms of Valerie’s house, all of it live feed. With Valerie indisposed of for the moment, Quinn shows us around the house, so to speak. He’s then able to shrink each picture down so they’re all on the same screen at the same time.

  Hunter whistles long and low; he’s in awe over the size and decor of Valerie’s house. No, not a house, but a fuckin’ mansion. It’s so high-end it could pass for one of those model homes you’d see in a Southern Living Magazine. Not that I ever read those magazines, but my mother did. She always had them lying around the house when I was growing up.

  “Zone in on the lower left square, Quinn,” I request, as I squint my eyes, trying to get a better look.

  “This one?” he asks, highlighting the area with a red laser pen on the screen to verify.

  “Yeah.” When he zooms in on the image I want a close up on, my jaw almost hits the table. “Y’all weren’t kidding. The motherfucker was loaded,” I say in astonishment, staring dumbfounded at what has to be the largest display of antique guns I’ve ever seen.

  “Ornate weaponry doesn’t even cover it,” Hunter says, just as astounded as me.

  “The late Graham Lawrence was more than a weapons lover. Not only was Valerie left with a shit load of money, but she could open a damn museum,” Travis adds dryly. He and Quinn had the chance to view the house on camera yesterday, but this is my first time seeing it, and I consider for a moment that maybe Graham’s showy display of wealth was all it took for Valerie to jump into his bed. Who the hell knows? But it keeps rubbing me raw every time I think about it.

  I turn and look at Quinn, asking him, “What about her son’s room? I don’t see that on the monitor.”

  For some reason, Quinn stiffens, but it only lasts a second and then he’s back to himself. I look at him quizzically. “It’s a room in her house that stays locked. When I went in there, I think there must’ve been a year’s worth of dust on every surface which told me she doesn’t go in there. So we left that room alone.”

  I chew on my bottom lip, deep in thought. I guess everyone handles that shit differently. I don’t know why I’m intrigued with her son. Maybe because he was a part of her, despite the boy having some of Graham’s DNA. “I’m not seeing any pictures of him on the walls. Why is that?”

  Quinn looks at me, giving me a funny look, as if I shouldn’t be piqued with such morbid curiosity as to what he looked like. I guess I shouldn’t be; it’s not what we’re supposed to be focused on. I think Quinn is going to grow irritated with me, but he doesn’t. He takes a second out from our debriefing to humor me.

  “I didn’t realize I needed to angle all the cameras in such a way that they would capture the pictures of her son on the walls,” he says teasingly.

  I hold up my hands, stopping him from ribbing me. “All right, was just asking. No harm, no foul. I know we got bigger shit on our plate. I was just curious.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Quinn says. “Maybe once you successf
ully work your way back into Valerie’s life, she will share that info with you herself.”

  I blow out a heavy breath, dreading that very task. Luring her in to most likely hurt the both of us all over again. “Speaking of Valerie, I still can’t see her being in the limelight of the FBI.” Scratching the back of my neck, I add, “You know, I just have a hard time believing she’s wrapped up in an investigation such as this. I can’t see her being anything other than innocent.”

  “How well did you know her?” Travis asks, placing his pen on top of his notepad to listen to me.

  “Pretty damn well. We dated for almost a year.”

  Hunter goes introspective for a second then snaps his fingers in an ah-ha moment. “I think I remember her. Wasn’t she working her way through nursing school?”

  I nod, concurring with Hunter, then take a sip of water. “Yep, that would be her.”

  “Not that it’s any of our business, Stryker, but what happened between the two of you?” Travis asks, continuing his interrogation.

  I let out a low groan, one laced with torment, knowing I need to tell them my dreaded tale. “I had to cancel a date one night with Valerie, because we were closing in on a case, which had dragged on for over a year. Not one hour after breaking said date, things went to shit pretty damn quick. We had just gotten a fresh lead and thought it was the big break we needed to bust up a drug trafficking operation. You remember it? I think we named it—”

  “Diamondback,” Travis pipes in.

  “Yeah, that’s the one,” I recall thoughtfully. I rub at the day-old scruff along my jaw, thinking back to that particular mission. “I remember Travis and me having to dress in damn mobster clothes day in and day out,” I reminisce with a grin. “Travis even carried a New York accent,” I add, “which had to be very difficult for someone who grew up in the deep south.”