by J. C. Cliff
“Thank you,” I murmur. Once she leaves my room, I roll over in my bed and curl up into a little ball, thinking about the mess I’m in. I grasp my little necklace charm between my fingers and bring it to my lips. I hold it there as I close my eyes, savoring all the things this charm represents. A tear slips from between my lashes as I think back on my past. Why did the two men I loved the most in this life have to die and complicate my life? God, what a selfish thought, but things were so much easier when I lived in my little bubble of happiness with my family surrounding me.
I have no idea what’s trying to transpire between Stryker and me, but one thing is for certain. There is no escaping my demons this time. Ready or not, I’m going to have to face them head-on.
I only realize I’ve started to cry, until I feel fat tears sliding down over my cheek.
I have to stop and ask myself, why? Why is Stryker seemingly being thrust into my life every time I turn around? Is it really fate, like Stryker says it is? I press the metal charm against my lips even harder, wanting it to take away the pain and fill me with inner peace. It’s a futile effort, but I do it anyway. It’s all I have.
CHAPTER 19
~ Stryker ~
After I visited with my sister for another hour, forcing myself to act as if nothing was bothering me the entire time, I had to go wind down somewhere before going back to Quinn’s house for the night. It’s rare for me to have a drink by myself, unless I’m at home. I don’t typically venture into bars without my wingman, Hunter. He already left for Panama yesterday afternoon to get all our affairs in order, including our weaponry. I’m not a fan of him going down there alone, even though I know he’ll be fine. I just feel off without him by my side. We do everything together, especially since we’re the only single guys left in the group.
By the time I get back to Quinn’s house, it’s really late, and the second I walk inside, he’s sitting there waiting on me. Yeah, the sumbitch knew Valerie was hired at the nursing home where Elaine lives. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he already knows what happened earlier tonight between me and Valerie. I almost want to laugh, because damn, I feel like I’m a teenager living under the microscope of my parent’s all over again.
“Quinn,” I address him with a short nod.
“Stryker,” he mimics. “We need to talk.”
“I’d say you’re right about that.” Not another word is spoken until we go into his recon room. We both sit down across from each other in heavy executive chairs, and stare at each other in the eye.
He’s the one to break the silence. “I have to say while you were out tonight, I watched some disturbing footage on the cam.”
“Disturbing? Oh please, do tell,” I say with a tinge of satire.
“This is serious, Stryker. I think you need to watch the highlights for yourself. You need to see what you’re doing, what you keep doing to Valerie.”
“Ahhh, yes, Valerie,” I half sneer. “Tell me, Quinn. When were you planning on telling me? You left me dealing with the element of surprise on top of a bad day for my sister. How’d you think I was going to react?” Then I create a skit in a mocking tone, “Hey, Valerie, great to see you again. Oh… you work here now? Wow, that’s wonderful news.”
“All right, I get it,” Quinn interrupts. “Yes, I figured you had enough on your plate to deal with and you didn’t need to know this until you got back. I knew it would upset you, and I was hoping the chances were slim to none that you wouldn’t run into her before you left.”
“Maybe I should start playing the lotto,” I add dryly, “seems I’m just full of luck lately.”
“Dammit, Stryker. I’m serious,” Quinn growls.
“And I’m not?” I ask, offended.
He grits his teeth back and forth then turns to flip on the computer, bringing up what I’m guessing is the aftereffects from this evening’s run-in with Valerie. “She came so close to backing out of this trip, and I believe she would have, except Celia was able to talk her into going.” Quinn is not happy about that, and I can’t say I blame him, because I’ve become a loose cannon around that woman, and it could cost us a lot of wasted time and money, and not to mention our reputation.
I’d seen Quinn in this mood many times before, just not with me. Never thought I’d see the day he’d have to have a one-on-one conversation with me over how I should handle my shit. We talked for a while longer, and then he had me watch the video.
Yeah, I was creating a shit-ton of carnage, all right, and I’m seriously beginning to jeopardize this mission. When I watch her slam back a bottle of wine and be very adamant about backing out of the trip, I feel every one of her emotions, along with all her frustrations, as they come off that camera feed. I feel them as if they were my own.
Needless to say, I’m thankful Celia was able to persuade her to stick to her plans. Nobody wants to be the cause of a fiasco. I decide in that moment to lie to myself until I believe it, in order pretend everything was right with Valerie. Am I lying to myself about being able to lie to myself? Probably. How do people twist shit into a new reality so they can live in a fantasy world? That’s my mother’s forte, and I wish I knew how she does it. You’d think after all this time of watching her do it, I could emulate that shit, but I’ve never been able to. I’m a realist through and through. I get that from my father.
I need to do whatever it takes in order for us to get along. I’ve got my work cut out with her love/hate feelings for me. I’ll be walking on a tightrope the entire time, my attitude precariously teetering on the edge of causing my team failure.
*~*~*
The flight down to Panama is much smoother than the other previous flights it took to get here. Once everyone claims their luggage at the airport, we have to find the buses that will take us to our camp. I love it when plans and agendas run smoothly, and that’s exactly what’s been happening thus far—no hiccups.
Our medical volunteer group is large enough that we are forced to divide onto two buses. Of course, even though I make sure to be on Valerie’s bus, I was sure to keep my distance the entire trip down. I spent that time psyching myself out and replaying in my mind the long conversation Travis and I had before I left Raleigh. I’m the one always doling out the psychological shit, so it kind of struck me funny that Travis, of all people, was giving me back the very words I had spoken to him not so long ago. Is this what women do to our heads? Drive us fucking insane to where we can’t think straight?
I stand back away from the crowds boarding the buses until almost everyone is settled in their seat. I’m sweating my ass off in the humid heat while watching everyone around me with suspicion. Once the drivers begin loading the last of the luggage into the storage wells of the bus, it’s my signal to jump aboard.
Just as the last volunteer boards, I wipe the sweat from my brow then bend down to grab my backpack. Slinging the light sack over my shoulder reminds me of how empty of ammo it is, and I frown. I think this will be the worst part of the trip for me, because I will be unarmed.
I take a deep breath, praying for something I can’t put into words. Lord, help me keep my attitude in check, and keep us all safe. I can’t even describe the different emotions she pulls out of me, because I thought I’d never be the one to let my moods run off course, but the scars are thick and run deep.
I let out a troubled sigh as I approach the stairwell of the bus, and once I climb on, I scan for an open seat. I’m careful not to make eye contact with Valerie and her friend. I kept careful watch of where they sat down, and as I make my way past them, I avoid eye contact, keeping my sights on the very back of the bus. A sigh of relief escapes me when I see it’s almost empty. I like my back against the wall at all times, so I can see everything in front of me.
I’m careful not to inadvertently bash anyone in the head with my bulky backpack. My pack is my lifeline, and during every living, breathing second of this entire trip, I plan to never get more than an arm's reach away from it. I swing the pack into the empty seat
and plunk my tired ass down in the seat next to it. I’m thankful as hell this is the last leg of the journey. It’s been a long day.
I pull out my phone and scroll through my messages, looking for any updates from Quinn or Travis, but there’s nothing. I wait for the bus to start moving so we can get some much-needed airflow in this stagnant heat. Sweat begins to saturate my T-shirt. To cope with the thick air, I rest my head against the window and close my eyes.
All I’ve been able to think about with each leg of this trip are the things I’d do if trouble were to unfold. I’d create new game plans in my head with each stop, running myself through different scenarios for survival. I’d almost say I resembled a paranoid junkie, but keeping myself sharp has always paid off. I’m always on guard, but I got shit for sleep last night, because my mind wouldn’t shut down. I was looking forward to, and yet at the same time, dreading this trip. I love the undercover work. I thrive off the adrenaline-fueled risks and adventures it gives. All except for the fact I have to pair up with Valerie. She’s a huge distraction, yet she’s the entire reason why I’m here.
In all actuality, this could be nothing more than a legit mission trip, or it could be a cover-up to mask something deeper and unscrupulous. I have to be prepared for either. As unpredictable possibilities race through my mind, I pat my right hip out of habit, realizing for the hundredth time today, I have no concealed weapon to protect myself with. This makes me very unhappy. I’ll be on edge until I reach Hunter, who should already have all our weapons.
The bus lurches forward, snapping me out of my deep thoughts. I was told we’d have the Darien Police escort us from the airport to the camp itself. The promised protection is a fucking joke. We only have two guards, just like Quinn said we would, and they’re the only defense our two buses have, should anything go wrong. I look out my window to see even more of a travesty. Both men are sharing the same dinky-ass motorcycle as they ride alongside our bus. I shake my head in disbelief, scoffing out loud at the absurdity. I bet they couldn’t even hit fifty miles per hour with the bike they’re on. As I sit here, I try to assure myself there has never been much need to have more than the two guards on any one given mission trip. I can only pray nothing bad goes down today.
My mind keeps spinning, flopping from one subject to the next, just like last night. Maybe I’ve got it all wrong. Perhaps it’s Celia and Valerie who are the ones who plan to disappear into thin air when no one is looking. There’s been millions of dollars shuffled around, so it’s quite plausible they’re getting ready to bolt. But why? There is still millions in untouched money in her Raleigh bank account. There are hundreds of motives, and countless scenarios as to how things could unfold, if they unfold at all.
Quinn performed all kinds of background searches, not wanting to rely too much on the FBI’s reports, but that’s Quinn for you. He’s never going to just take anyone’s intel and run with it; he always has to dig the shit up himself. He’s extremely vigilant, but he too came up with the exact same information he was given. Everything about Valerie’s deceased husband’s activities were squeaky clean, and Celia’s background even more so. There is no proof of anything, just suspicious activity, speculation at its finest, and a shit-load of money on the line.
Being out of the country, combined with the lack of manpower, feels like battery acid eating through my gut. If shit hits the fan, it will come down to just me and Hunter defending ourselves against God-knows-what, or God-knows-who. As much as I don’t trust our own government, I trust Central America’s even less to have our backs. The other saving grace is Quinn and Travis can track mine and Hunter’s whereabouts at any given moment to see if we’re taken off course. But even that is almost laughable, because they are an entire country away and can do very little about it.
CHAPTER 20
~ Stryker ~
“Hey.” Valerie nudges her shoulder against mine, interrupting my thoughts. I pull my gaze from the dense green jungle and tilt my head to the side, eyeing her speculatively. She pushes my backpack aside and sits down next to me. “You looked so introspective. Are you okay?” she asks softly.
I give her a thoughtful frown, not replying right away.
“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I finally tell her the truth.
“Are you worried about your sister?”
“Most definitely,” I respond, still studying her. “She never leaves my mind for long.” I always worry whether or not she’s being taking care of, and recently, I’m even more concerned about how fatigued she is. I didn’t get my text from her until noon today telling me that she just got out of bed, because she wanted to sleep in, which isn’t like her. It’s frustrating not being able to get everyone on the same page when it comes to her health, and my mother is the worst one at thwarting my efforts. She acts as if my years of medical training and knowledge pale in comparison to her almighty mother-knows-best mentality. That’s where I get railroaded in my efforts to ensure my sister receives the proper care she needs.
I’ve gone on a rant inside my head. I always do, because it’s a very sore spot with me, and it never fails to get my blood pressure up. I’ve been staring Valerie down in silence the entire time, and I can tell my gaze is making her feel uncomfortable, but I’m wondering why she’s being nice. Why did she come back here to talk with me, and why does she even care? Because, after all, she doesn’t believe in second chances, right?
“What do you want from me?” I ask gruffly, suddenly irritated with her presence.
At first, her eyebrows lift in surprise at my tone, and then her eyes narrow on mine. I’ve surprised her with my anger, but only for a brief second before she goes on the defense, and bites back. “You know what? I was trying to make the best of this situation, but it looks like that isn’t going to happen,” she hisses, then adds, “Go screw yourself.”
A slow grin spreads across my lips and I lean in to her personal space. I can do anger. I can even do passive-aggressive. She will never win against my quick wit. “You packed your vibrator, right?” I ask in all seriousness, while keeping my voice low so only she can hear. “I hear those suckers can easily cost over three hundred bucks a pop, and I’m more than certain they don’t sell them where we’re going. But having a good vibrator on hand seems just as important as having Travelers Checks.” I pause for effect. “You never leave home without them. I mean, shit, if it were me, I’d have one of those in my bag too. But when you run out of battery power,” I say, holding up my hand, and then wiggle my fingers, “I’d be happy to oblige. It is my forte, after all.”
Her nostrils flare and the muscles in her jaw clench. “You are unbelievable. Asshole doesn’t even begin to cover what you are,” she whisper-hisses. Seething, she uses her index finger to make small circles in front of my chest. “What’s the matter, Stryker? You haven’t been laid lately?” she asks, pausing briefly to think about that. “That’s it, isn’t it? Or could you be jealous of my vibrator, because it gets to touch my pussy, something you will never have? It’s probably been so long since you’ve had a proper lay from a classy lady. You’ve forgotten how a real woman feels.” Her lips thin as she nods her head, silently coming to terms with something within herself. “You know what? I’m feeling generous. You can borrow my vibrator. Maybe it’d fuck the self-righteous asshole out of you once you shove it up yours. I’d even turn it on for you.” She then sneers at me and haughtily crosses her arms. “You just wish you could have a vagina like mine.”
“You sure told me,” I respond, my voice lined with pure sarcasm. “You’re right, I wish I could have that vagina. I’d pound the shit out of it with my dick, because no device could ever replace my moves. Maybe that’s what you need to borrow from me, my dick, so you could get off properly and not spend hours in bed trying to reach an orgasm that never comes because it’s not me.”
Before I can register what I let slip from my mouth, my ears are already ringing from the resounding slap her palm makes against my cheekbone. Heavy-handed too, I might add.
It stings like hell, but I know I deserve it. Every time I see her, I take every bit of my frustrations out on her. From the way she ran off all those years ago to marry another man, to not giving us another shot, and now I’m stuck with her for the next week, without a break in sight.
Her chest is rapidly rising and falling at hyperventilation speed, and as I look into her eyes, they’re glossing over with tears. Her voice comes out tight and shaky. “You know what? I really thought I could do this, but I can’t. I knew being in the same proximity as you would be hard, but not this hard.” Her breath hitches as she swipes away a fallen tear. “You seem to bring out more than just the worst in me. I don’t react to people with hate and vindictiveness, it’s not in my nature, and I don’t like myself when I do.” She’s right about that, her reactions have been totally out of character, and I can see the self-loathing she has for herself over it.
“You have no idea what I’m living with on the inside,” she grits out, pointing a trembling finger into her own chest. “This trip was already a difficult one for me to take, too many painful memories I have to contend with, and now you’ve been thrown into the mix. I told Celia this was a bad idea and to cancel my reservation. I begged and pleaded not to come this year, but she convinced me that my volunteer work would help me get past my own issues, that these people were counting on me. But this?” She swipes another tear off her cheek. “This is too much. Once we arrive at camp, I will pay someone to drive me back to the airport, no matter what the cost, and I’ll go home. I can’t do this.” She covers her mouth to keep from letting a sob escape.