Secret Maneuvers

by Jessie Lane

  The man was nothing noteworthy, just your average looking Joe. What made my breath catch was the woman who walked in behind him. Dirty blond hair, streaked with natural white-blond highlights was pulled back into a braid that fell halfway down her back. She wore low rise jeans that showed off a flat tummy and well-rounded ass. Her badge was belted to her waist with her gun in its holster on the opposite side. A fit, black, short-sleeve polo—also embroidered with an ATF emblem—did nothing to hide her more than ample breasts; the kind that overfilled a man’s hands. Even large hands like mine.

  Moss green eyes scanned the room, roaming right over me. As if she didn’t even know who the hell I was! It might have been fifteen years, but I damn sure knew who she was, despite the changes in her appearance.

  Her body had changed a lot over the years. She’d been considered stick skinny back in those days because her shithead of a dad couldn’t have cared less about whether there had been food in the house as long as he’d had a bottle of whisky to drink and cigarettes to puff on like a chimney. Now her belly was slightly rounded out instead of devastatingly caved in, her hips were lush, and her damn chest looked as if it were at least two sizes larger than what I’d lovingly held in my hands long ago. She’d filled out in ways I’d dreamed about when we were kids and all I could think about was having my girl safe under my own roof, feeding her regular meals, and making her happy. Her hair was way longer, but I bet that once it was out of that tight, confining braid that it was still the same mass of loose curls I had run my fingers through a thousand times before.

  Unbelievable. Fifteen years later, and Annabelle Smith was standing in my unit’s meeting room as a freaking ATF agent after disappearing from our small hometown of Sylvania, Georgia. My first love—the one who I’d foolishly let get away—stood right in front of me, looking better than any of my vivid memories could ever do justice. My Belle.

  I clenched my fists on top of my thighs to stop the urge of rushing up to grab her and drag her home with me. Years of looking, private investigators who gave me nothing except broken dreams, and she just waltzed in here like she didn’t have a care in the world. I did my best to calm the heart racing in my chest like it was jacked up on meth.

  “Gentlemen, these are Agents Boyd and Roberts.”

  I felt my face morph into a mask of confusion. Roberts? Belle’s last name wasn’t Roberts. That was her best friend, Teagan’s, last name. What the hell was going on here?

  Jaxon continued speaking, “They’re the two agents in charge of this investigation. We’re on a short time table to get these two back to Texas, so let’s get started with a brief introduction.” Turning to face Belle and her partner he pointed to himself and said, “I’m Commander Wall. The men seated in front of you are Riley Sullivan, Declan Sullivan, Logan Price, Bobby Baker, Wyatt Brooks, Arturo Chavez, Chase Anderson, and Lucas Young. Now with that out of the way, would you please inform us of your operation as it stands right now?”

  My confusion was quickly morphing into anger. Belle’s eyes had passed right over me as if she didn’t even know who I was! I knew better, though. She knew exactly who I was and when this meeting was over I was damn well going to get some answers from her.

  Belle handed Agent Boyd a bag before she stepped forward, while crossing her arms over her chest to face us. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Towards the end of 2010, Operation Fast and Furious ended shortly after the shooting death of a border patrol agent. Found with the border patrol agent’s body were two AK-47’s. It was later discovered that these two weapons, along with over two thousand others, were sold to Mexican criminals under Project Fast and Furious in an attempt to trace their paths and get a larger picture of where guns like these were being used in the gun smuggling ring.

  “Agent Boyd and I are here today because we have a contact inside the Rivera Cartel based outside of Monterrey, Mexico that informed us that they have been buying firearms and ammunition from a source here in the U.S. They have managed to confirm several individuals that the ATF already knew, or suspected, dealt with black market firearms sales. We’ve loosely connected a few of these individuals to Operation Fast and Furious. There’s not enough evidence to stick on anyone right now, though. Just leads and suspicions.

  “So far, we have been unable to track down the individuals behind these sales to the Rivera Cartel. To compound this problem, our source now tells us that the Cartel is in negotiations for a massive purchase of firearms from this same source. We’re not sure where the guns are or where they’re coming from, but we need to figure it out, and quickly.”

  She pauses for a second and gestures towards her partner. “What Agent Boyd is passing out to you is your own dossiers on the information we have of the past sales that the Rivera Cartel has obtained. You’ll also find what information we have on the suspects we believe are involved in the sales, including the Cartel’s leader, Miguel Rivera. In case you’ve been hiding underneath a rock somewhere for the past twenty years and have never heard of them, the Rivera Cartel is one of the strongest, deadliest Cartels in Mexico. It was started by Ricardo Rivera, Miguel’s father, in the early 1990s. Ricardo kept the operation small, but since his death in 2008, Miguel has quadrupled his area and power. He’s ruthless and it’s paid off for him. He now owns most of the northeastern Mexican territories’ drug routes. We also have intel that he’s expanding into human trafficking, pipeline trafficked oil, theft, and weapons trafficking. He’s a power player that needs to be taken out.”

  Jaxon stepped forward to stand next to Belle. “Agent Roberts, if it’s okay with you, I would like the men to take their dossiers home to study while they pack up. Then perhaps we can resume this meeting with any questions they have later tonight. I’d like everyone to ship out for Texas early tomorrow morning.”

  Nodding her head in approval, she agreed, “Sounds like a plan, Commander Wall. Contact us with the specifics later.” Sticking her hand out to Jaxon, she gave him a confident shake before grabbing her messenger bag, then turning on her booted heel and exiting the room with her fellow agent.

  As the eight men around me rustled papers from their dossiers and prepared to leave, I sat there dumbstruck. Belle just walked in and out of this room without acting like she knew me. A fury of wounded, male pride flooded my senses. I’d be damned if she thought she was going to get away like that! Standing abruptly, my chair loudly clattered to the floor as I rushed out the door to follow her. My neck started to itch from the curious stares of my colleagues, but I didn’t care what the hell they thought as I slowly jogged out into the hall after her.

  “Belle!” She kept walking without acknowledging me. What the hell? “Belle! Wait up!” As Boyd stopped to turn at my approaching footsteps, confusion on his face, I reached out to grab Belle’s arm with my right hand to stop her. Two seconds later, a shot of pain flashed up my arm as I found my hand pulled backwards and bent at a nearly debilitating angle. Belle’s beautiful face stared back at me with bitter disdain. Anger simmered in her green eyes so fiercely, I felt the impact of it to the soles of my boots.

  Boyd stepped forward to stand between us just as she released my hand and then held her other hand up to ward Boyd off from interfering. “Mr. Baker, I’ll kindly ask you not to grab me. While you’re at it, please refrain from calling me Belle. I go by Annabelle. Now, if you’ll excuse me and my partner, we have things to do before tonight’s meeting.” Belle turned away and walked confidently down the hallway while Boyd gawked at me with open curiosity. With a shake of his head, he jogged after Belle, who had turned the corner, already disappearing from sight.

  Standing there, feeling a myriad of emotions—shock, anger, confusion—I watched as the only girl who had ever held my heart did her damndest to walk out of my life; acting like she didn’t give a shit as she did it. It felt like a sucker punch to the gut by a heavy-weight boxing champ. Apparently, fifteen years hadn’t calmed the obvious anger or pain she harbored from the letter that haunted me. The letter I should have never wri
tten. She didn’t even bother to give me five minutes to try and explain. To tell her that just two weeks after her receiving that letter, I’d had my parents desperately searching the entire fucking county for her, with strict instructions to tell her that I’d realized my mistake. To explain to her that I was stupid. Really, really stupid. And sorry. So fucking sorry.

  A hand slapped down on my shoulder. I looked over my shoulder to see that it belonged to Declan, which meant that his brother, Riley, was the body standing on the other side of me. “I take it that’s the famous Belle? The sweet, southern angel from home that got away?” Declan asked.

  With a gruff voice, I answered, “Yeah. That’s her, alright.”

  Riley snorted. “Well, brother, looks as if your angel is gone in more ways than one.”

  Annabelle

  I sat with my forehead pressed to the steering wheel of the SUV rental, trying my best to take deep breaths and calm down. Was this some cruel joke from God? Had I not been good enough over the years that I could have been blessed never to see Bobby Baker for the rest of my days? Did I deserve this kind of karmic injustice? I’d been running from a shady past and some killer secrets, but I’d tried to balance out the scales by living a good life; one almost beyond reproach.

  Now I’d just run into Bobby-fucking-Baker, all these years later, looking better than sin on a stick in his tall, muscled, six-foot frame. Those devastating, baby blue eyes flecked with gray and white colors that reminded me of a Georgia summer sky dotted with clouds. Sexy, chestnut brown hair liberally highlighted with blond and cut short against his head. Mouthwatering lips I could remember kissing me like it was yesterday and not fifteen years ago. No longer was there a young, eighteen-year-old boy to dream about. No, instead there was a hard, lusty man to drool over with that ruggedly handsome face I’d always known he’d grow into. There were probably a hundred women who’d accidentally run into glass doors or telephone poles because they’d been staring at that face of his with its rugged beauty instead of watching where they were walking. What could I have possibly done to deserve such severe punishment as having to run into the one man who’d broken my heart in so many pieces that it had never been salvaged?

  Boyd shifted uncomfortably in his passenger seat. “Want to talk about it Annabelle?” Yeah, emotional girl talks were so not Boyd’s forte.

  “No, Boyd, I don’t wanna talk about it. In fact, do me a favor. Let’s pretend all of that didn’t happen, okay?”

  “That’s him, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. That’s him, alright. Hence why I don’t wanna talk about it. That’s also why you’re not gonna say a damn thing about me and my personal life, right?” Turning my head to glare at my partner with an I’ll-kick-your-balls-to-your-throat look, Boyd responded by shaking his head in disapproval before sighing.

  “It’s your life. I don’t agree with it, but I promise not to say a word.”

  Heaving a sigh of relief I cranked the engine and reversed out of our parking spot. “Thanks, Boyd. I owe you one. Now let’s go get some beer before heading back to these apartments they've stuck us in, in their impenetrable fortress here. I wanna get settled before calling Seth to check in. These boys will probably be ready for the next meeting in just a couple of hours, and I need time to make sure my guts are still made of steel before round two comes up. I mean, dag-gum, Boyd. Did hell start serving snow cones to its inhabitants? Have you seen any pigs flying? Has the President solved the national deficit? Better yet, did they lift that house off the Wicked Witch of the West and she’s really alive?”

  Boyd chuckled. “Honey, your guts aren’t made of steel. They’re made of fucking titanium. You’ve got nothing to worry about, but I got to tell you, no snow cones, no flying pigs, the deficit still sucks, and that crazy woman with the flying monkeys and striped socks is still fictionally dead. So maybe you fell into a Twilight Zone episode instead.”

  I only shook my head at his obvious amusement. Too bad I didn’t feel like my insides were all that solid at the moment. ‘Cause Lord knew that seeing Bobby Baker had just rocked my little world more than I ever thought was possible. With my shitty luck, I’d finally hit rock bottom, and at least it couldn’t go anywhere except up from here. Although, a little liquid fortification never hurt anyone. Also, it would sure as hell help me get the nerve to go through the next couple of hours without murdering someone in a desperate rage.

  Five hours later, I sat with Boyd, in his suite, and the nine men of EX Ops, going over the files of information piece by piece. I had to admit, I was a little impressed with their range of questions and keen insight as they looked at each reported sale of black market items in Texas; looking for any possible clues that Boyd and I might have missed. They’d already been talking things out for close to two hours and no one was any closer to a conclusion than Boyd and I had been for the past three months of our investigation. At least they were all laid back enough to be slowly drinking a beer instead of the uptight soldier boys I originally thought they’d be. On the other hand, the relaxed atmosphere also made it ten times harder to ignore Bobby’s blatant staring from time to time. The shrill ring of my cell phone cut through the quiet and the attention I’d focused on the file in my hands.

  Flipping it open, I answered with the usual, “Roberts speaking.”

  “Well, hello there, darlin’! How’s the prettiest ATF agent in the state of Texas doing tonight?” a seductive Texan drawl crooned through my phone. All ten men in the room, including Boyd, looked over curiously before going back to the files in their hands.

  A large, genuine smile spread across my face. “Why if it isn’t my favorite Sheriff! I’m doing just fine, Charlie! How’re things your way?”

  “Well, my sweet Annabelle, things have been mighty boring around here. Deputy Walters wanted to see if you could come over here and show some handcuff techniques to our new Deputy. Walt reckons the boy needs a good lesson or two and it would sure liven' things up. I’d like to volunteer as your assistant in the presentation.” Boyd barked a laugh from clear across the room.

  I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or blush in embarrassment. Rolling my eyes and rubbing a finger across my nose to hide my light blush behind my hand, I decided it was best to just roll with the punches. “Well, Charlie, I’ve got some bad news for you then. I’m out of town with Boyd at the moment. I won’t be back to Texas till tomorrow. You’ll just have to tell good ol’ Walters to train the new Deputy with the handcuffs himself. You can be Walter’s assistant. Besides, I might need mine to detain Boyd later if he gets on my damn nerves anymore tonight.” Silent snickers and coughs echoed around the room while Charlie’s booming laughter floated through the phone. “Is that all you needed, Charlie? I’m kind of in a meeting right now.”

  “Actually, Annabelle, it looks as if my new Deputy might have seen something for you.” Charlie quickly went over what the young Deputy had seen. My heart picked up speed in my chest. After months of frustration, it looked like a possible lead.

  “Hold on, Charlie, I wanna put you on speaker phone. I’m sitting here with Boyd and a team of guys that’ll be helping us out on this case. Can you repeat all of that for them?”

  “Anything for you, darlin’.”

  Pressing the speaker button on my phone, then turning the volume all the way up, I set the phone in the middle of the table and glanced around to make sure I had everyone’s attention before saying, “Can you hear me, Charlie?”

  “Sure can.”

  “Okay. Kindly repeat what you just told me.”

  “Well, the new Deputy was making rounds in his civilian vehicle to learn the routes for the job on his off time. He drove by that place on the edge of town, you know, the ‘Big Bull Bar’, because it’s one of our business checks. Says there were a couple of guys holding an assault rifle by the open trunk of a car. It seemed to bug him ‘til he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that they were up to no good, so he decided to come see me about it today. Sounds a little fishy, don’t you think
, Annabelle?”

  Boyd leaned towards the phone. “Hey, Charlie, could your Deputy tell what kind of rifle it was?”

  “Sorry, Boyd. The boy is fresh out of the academy and don’t know his .308 from his .50 Cal, but I got to say it sounds funny to me.”

  Commander Jaxon shrugged. “We’re talking about the state of Texas. Don’t you guys collect guns and attend football games like it’s a religion? Could be nothing but a couple of avid gun enthusiasts. Guess it wouldn’t hurt to look into if it gave the Deputy the willies, though.”

  I happened to agree. “Thanks for telling us, Charlie. I appreciate the information and we’ll check into it tomorrow. Can you email any other information your Deputy noticed? Like what the guys looked like or what car they were standing by? Anything like that might help us out, too.”

  “Not a problem, Annabelle, I’ll have it to you by the end of the night. Tell me, darlin’, how’s Seth doing? Is he taking good care of you?”

  Hastily snatching the phone up to turn the speaker function off, I walked out to the patio and shut the door behind me before finishing my conversation with Sheriff Charlie Jenkins. He was a hell of a guy that I had an on-again/off-again, friends with benefits, relationship with, but right about now, I felt like sticking my pointy-toe cowboy boot up his Wrangler-encased butt for broadcasting my business to a room full of guys I didn’t know as well as one guy I knew all too well.

  One guy I had absolutely no intentions of letting learn my business because boy-howdy, that would be a mess and a half to face. What I almost missed in my rapid retreat outside was the flicker of jealousy on Bobby Baker’s face at my apparent evasion to the mention of another man’s name. A reaction that was definitely not missed by the other nine men in the room.