Exchange of Fire

by P. A. DePaul

  Sonofabitch. “Damn it, Sandra, tell me what’s wrong.” He trailed behind her, unsure if he should grab her and corner her against the wall or simply follow behind like an idiot. Either way, Henry was getting a show.

  The image of Ashlyn’s parents leading a fully loaded moving truck out of the neighborhood roared forward. The FOR SALE sign staked in the front yard advertised how they couldn’t live in the house anymore without their daughter. I won’t fail again, he’d vowed to his former best friend’s memory. When they reached the entrance to the Security Room, he snatched Sandra off her feet with one arm while forcing the door open with the other, doing his best to hang on without hurting her.

  “Let me go!” Struggling and bucking. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you don’t remove your arm right now!” Nails in his forearm. “Damn it, Grady, this doesn’t concern you!” Kick to the shin. “Put me down right now!” Near hit with a head-butt.

  “Uhhh, sir?” Henry stammered as he flew out of his chair. “This was not what I had in mind when we talked earlier.”

  “Last warning,” she spewed, and he felt her muscles coil.

  He kicked the door shut and tossed her away from him.

  She bounced on her feet once, but rallied so quickly, he knew then she was more than she pretended to be. A person didn’t move like that without extensive training. What the hell was going on? He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, widening his stance in case she tried to come at him.

  “Grady?” the security guard asked again.

  “It’s okay, Henry. I have no plans to hurt her, just needed to slow her down a minute.”

  “I can’t say the same for you,” she fumed, running her hands through her hair. She took a deep breath and turned her back on him. Her posture screamed barely leashed rage as she stared at the monitors.

  Henry slowly lowered his body into the chair, his eyes pinging back and forth between the two of them. “Should I leave?” he asked, his voice full of concern and a healthy dose of what the fuck?

  You and me both, old man, Grady silently replied. Out loud he said, “No. Stay. I need you to continue watching the monitors. It’s almost closing time.”

  “Crazy time, you mean,” Henry mumbled, and turned back to the TVs.

  “Yep.”

  Throughout their exchange, Sandra remained rigid. The only sign of life was her fingers clenching and unclenching by her sides. So she was mad. Tough shit. His gut was going crazy, and he refused to ignore his instincts.

  “You going to talk to me now?” he asked just to get some dialogue going.

  Silence.

  “So that’s a no then?”

  Nothing.

  “You cold? That why you grabbed your sweater and tore out of your office? Headed to maintenance to tell them to turn the AC down? You know they’re gone for the night, right?”

  Henry’s shoulders started to shake. That rascal. At least someone thought this was funny.

  “You know, I’m going to be sporting a pretty big bruise on my ribs from your purse.”

  Her chin lifted. “That’s your own damn fault.”

  Ahhhhhhh, the angels sing. Success! “Probably have one on my leg too from your heel.”

  “Guess you shouldn’t have grabbed me then, huh?” Her back remained to him.

  “Probably, but you wouldn’t slow down enough for me to find out how to help.”

  She whirled, flames igniting the green in her irises. Beautiful. “I don’t need your help. If I did, I can speak English. I can even use all the right words in the correct order to ask for it.” She visibly swallowed. “Now move away from the door.”

  “My ass, you’d ask for it,” he replied, cocking his head to the side. “There’s a fine line between pissed and scared, and, toots, right now you’re showing both.”

  She stepped forward. “Getting charged with murder will do that to a person, and that’s what’s going to happen to me if you don’t move out of my way.”

  He snorted. “Try again.” He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet.

  Holy fuck. This woman had just compensated and shifted with him. Who the hell was she?

  She adjusted her purse and crowded into his space. He felt himself stiffen and told his body to relax and let this play out.

  Her eyes bored into his as she appeared to grapple with something. Just when he thought the only way to end this Mexican standoff was to give in to his libido and kiss her, she spoke in a low voice. “Fine. You want to help? Then move. I’ve got to go.”

  “Not without me.”

  “I figured.” Annoyance flashed in her hazel eyes. “About-face, Marine; I can’t waste any more time.”

  He studied her. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes still snapped, but he could also detect a resignation about her. “Smart decision. Let me grab something from my office.”

  “Whatever. Let’s go.”

  He opened the door. “Ladies first.” No way was he letting her out of his sight.

  Chapter 7

  Sandra swept by him and marched down the hall. Damn you, Grady, for putting me in this position. The second she heard the distinctive click of his office door shutting, she whirled. Not wanting to give him any chance to form a real defense, she attacked. She aimed for his chest, but his instincts had him blocking her blow, which is exactly what she wanted. She countered with a jab to his temple. He stumbled. With a series of moves that would make her former instructors proud, she knocked him out as painlessly as possible.

  The sight of him crumpled on the floor had her swallowing back a lump of regret. He didn’t deserve this, but it was for his own good. No way could she risk him getting caught up in this mess.

  She closed his door and raced down the hall, yelling, “He’ll be fine, Henry, I promise,” then pushed through the door leading out of the Employees Only area. The racket of controlled chaos hit her as she crossed through the area between the eatery and the miniature golf construction. Her body twisted and turned as she ran the gauntlet between clumps of teenagers, deadly strollers, wayward kids whose brains were comatose from overstimulation, and packs of families gathering to leave for the night.

  Employees stopped and stared, confusion filling their faces, but she didn’t slow down. Time was of the essence, and she had allowed Grady to delay her for too long. If she had any hope of escaping while keeping these people safe, she had to disappear—like, yesterday.

  She burst through the back door in the arcade and headed for the thin tree line. If her worst fears had come true, her identity was compromised. That meant her car would already be on their radar and targeted next. Shit. Shit. Shit. She ran across acres of freshly mowed grass and plunged into the scraggly trees. She exhaled a sigh of relief. She was now out of camera sight and the accusing stare she just knew filled Henry’s face.

  Slowing her steps, she let out a frustrated sound. Both sides of her brain warred with each other over where to go next—loudly. Her left side wanted to head straight to the small unit at the storage facility she had rented under a different alias just for this contingency. It argued she should empty its contents and catch the next train to anywhere.

  She yanked out the key chain and stared at it while her right side pleaded with her to double-check the apartment on the off chance the break-in was just a random act, not her past catching up to her. Maybe you don’t need to leave yet, it taunted her.

  Of course the storage facility and her apartment were in opposite directions—on purpose—so she needed to make a decision quick. Grady’s dimpled smile flashed through her mind, then it flipped to an image of his crumpled body on the floor. A pang shot through her heart. She had tried so hard to keep her distance, but something about him kept drawing her in. He had such a fresh, earnest need to help people. A drive she found sexy. Instead of the Marines hardening him, the corps seemed to hone him into a well-defined Boy Scout. With a delicious set of muscles in all the right places.

  Stop it, she scolded her libido.


  Damn it. Her right brain won. Though if she had any kind of sense, thoughts of Grady should have her running for the storage unit. He didn’t deserve the trouble her past could potentially rain down on him.

  God, she was an idiot.

  On foot, unable to use the major roads, with the mountainous terrain, it was going to take her a couple hours before she reached her rented apartment. She sighed and switched her purse strap to run diagonally across her chest. Thank God she got to wear sneakers to work; trekking that distance in heels would have been a bitch.

  ***

  The SBG operative downshifted his all-black Kawasaki Ninja and honored the speed limit sign posted just outside the small town’s city limits. For seventeen hours he had been riding with minimal stops along the way. His legs ached and his ass had long passed numb, but he was determined to arrive here first.

  He swiped the visor up on his helmet and trolled along Main Street. Clean mountain air filled his lungs as the engine from his motorcycle bounced off the mostly closed businesses. The holiday weekend probably had nothing to do with their darkened windows either.

  The information he received from headquarters left him disoriented and furious. He spent too many hours cooped up in that goddamn building for his annual psych eval, rehashing every fucking minute detail of each mission since he last sat on that couch. It was only at the end of that wonderful head trip that he understood the furor cascading through the building: Victor had discovered a new Shade.

  One of his contacts had cornered him in an empty office and tipped him off about Victor sending a slew of operatives to various parts of the country where the suspected Shade was supposedly holed up. The operative barely heard a thing after the name Wraith dropped out of the guy’s mouth. It took all his discipline not to grip the skinny dude by the throat and demand the answers faster. Eventually the man confessed that Ridge Creek, North Carolina, had the most compelling evidence and was most likely where Wraith was hiding.

  The operative slid his bike into an empty parking spot and idled next to the curb. Stan’s Gidgets and Gadgets didn’t seem to be in need of it at the moment. He yanked his black driving gloves off and tapped the smartphone anchored in a makeshift holder on his bike. Where would she be? His contact had insinuated that she probably wouldn’t be here for long. The guy seemed to think she’d be fleeing right about now. The SBG operative didn’t really understand how the man had come to that conclusion and frankly didn’t care. As long as he got to her first, nothing else mattered.

  If she remained true to her training, she’d leave whatever car or truck she’d bought behind. That left the train, airport, or car rental agency. He pulled up a map of Ridge Creek. Asheville Regional Airport was the closet way to fly. He searched for a train station. There was one on the other side of the mountain ridge . . . and what do you know? An hourly train ran from the station to the airport and back.

  He smacked the helmet visor down and took off.

  ***

  Grady groaned and clutched his head.

  “Casper? You waking up?”

  “Son of a bitch,” he moaned.

  “Oh, yeah. You’re awake.” Henry’s voice filtered into his throbbing head. “Can you sit up?” the old man asked as a set of wrinkled fingers grasped his arm.

  “Where is she?” Grady demanded, his mind replaying the sight of her small fist aiming for his temple.

  Henry’s voice hardened. “Gone.”

  He sat up and put a hand over his roiling stomach. “Gone? How long ago?” He gathered his legs and pushed to his feet, then swayed, blinking against the spots dotting his vision.

  Henry straightened and fixed him with a heavy frown. “That woman just knocked you senseless, and you’re going after her?”

  “Damn right. I want to know what the hell is going on.”

  “She’s trouble, and you’d be a fool to get caught up in it.”

  “Probably, but she just took me down and I want to know why. She wouldn’t do that without a reason, and I won’t turn my back on someone who needs help.”

  The security guard snorted. “There’s more to her than she pretended to be.”

  Grady rubbed his head. “Yeah, figured that one out myself.”

  “You ain’t gotta be a savior here. Let this one go. You’re young and handsome; there’re other, better women out there for you to choose. Ones that don’t knock you out and run.”

  Grady gnashed his teeth at the old man’s stalling. “Just tell me which way she went.” Visions of him catching up to her and forcing her to explain herself fueled his determination.

  Henry sighed and shook his head, muttering, “Youth is wasted on the young.” In a louder voice he said, “After she took you down, she ran out the back door and headed for the trees. I lost her after that. Her car’s still in the parking lot.”

  “How much of a head start does she have?”

  Henry glanced at his watch. “’Bout thirty minutes.”

  “Shit. Anyone else know about this?”

  “No. She bellowed how you’d be fine as she ran past. I didn’t know what to make of it at first. Came investigating after a while when you didn’t appear.”

  “Thank you. Do me a favor. Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone.” Henry opened his mouth, but Grady continued, “We don’t know what the hell is going on, and the employees don’t need to be upset and distracted while handling the large holiday crowd. Got it?”

  The security guard grumbled, but eventually said, “You got a point. I’ll keep my trap shut.”

  “Thank you.” The second Henry cleared his doorway, Grady pivoted on his heel and made a beeline for his desk to pick up a little insurance. He opened the small safe hidden in the credenza and plucked the .40-caliber Beretta off the special pegs he had installed on the door. He checked the magazine. Full. Excellent. Bullet in the chamber? He press checked the weapon by pulling the slide about a quarter inch back. A little bit of silver winked at him. Check. He engaged the safety and grabbed the holster off the top shelf. He fit the leather between the small of his back and his jeans and slid the Beretta inside. After relocking the safe, he untucked his green polo shirt and made sure the gun didn’t show.

  Good enough.

  As he hustled to his Range Rover, he racked his brain for where she would go. If she had the type of training he suspected, she would know enough to stay off the main roads. So it wouldn’t be as easy as tooling the streets and stumbling upon her.

  For lack of a better idea, he headed for the train station. If she was still on foot, it would take her about an hour to get to the terminal from his business.

  The whole way there, he kept scanning the sides of the road, hoping to catch sight of her yellow polo. A long shot with the sky now fully dark, but the full moon helped illuminate the surroundings enough for him to discern some colors.

  The train depot’s parking lot was adequately lit, but not enough to win a bright-light award. He headed straight for the back and made sure he parked on the west side of the lot, opposite from where the center was located. If she came in from the east, hopefully she wouldn’t notice his black vehicle parked among the rest.

  He forced himself to sit in the SUV and wait. It wasn’t easy since he had no clue if she would even come here or not, but he did for about ten minutes. It was relatively quiet for a Saturday night; he chalked it up to the fact that most people were probably already at their chosen destinations for the holiday weekend. As he sat, he watched a few couples unload their cars and roll their suitcases into the station. Some single passengers also headed up front, but none fit Sandra’s description.

  “Screw it.” He got out and trekked across the lot. Bright fluorescent lights hit him as he passed through the sliding electric doors. All the people he had seen earlier milled in the small space, as well as a few others who must have been here before he arrived. None of them were Sandra. Shit.

  Going for broke, he walked up to the window.

  “Where to?” the bored cashier as
ked as she continued to rest her cheek against her hand.

  “Ahh, I’ve got a crazy question for you.” He flashed her his best smile. The girl didn’t even blink. Okay then. Not going to be adding this one to my “gaggle of girls.” He plowed on: “Have you sold a ticket recently to Sandra Walsh? She’s approximately five feet, six inches tall, with sable-brown hair and hazel eyes.”

  “I can’t give you that information, sir,” she responded in a dead voice. “Privacy laws or some crap like that. That it, or you want to buy a ticket?”

  He tapped his fingers on the counter and reached for his back pocket.

  “Don’t bother if you’re about to grab your wallet as an incentive,” she said in her bored voice, and flicked a finger to a spot behind him, then to an area over her shoulder. “It’s all being recorded, so I couldn’t accept any money outside of a purchase.”

  He sighed. “I’m not traveling, just looking for her.”

  “Sorry,” the cashier droned, sounding everything but. “Can’t help.” She peered beyond him and called in a slightly louder voice, “I can take you now.”

  Dismissed.

  A handsome blond man in his late twenties to early thirties wearing a black leather jacket, open to reveal a T-shirt with the slogan SARCASM. JUST ANOTHER SERVICE I PROVIDE, stepped around Grady. The guy dipped his chin before maneuvering to stand in front of the window.

  Right. Time to go.

  Ridge Creek may be a small town population-wise, but it made up for it by being expansive. He drove through all the side streets surrounding the train depot but didn’t have any luck. Twice he spotted a motorcycle behind him, but couldn’t tell in the dark if it was the same bike. Each time Grady wondered if he was being followed, the motorcycle would casually veer off and disappear down one of the side streets. Don’t go looking for more trouble than you’ve already got, Grady.