In the Black: Black Star Security

by Cynthia Rayne

  Zane bit back a moan.

  Like on the porch swing, Zane lost himself in Ellie.

  This was supposed to be about comfort, not desire.

  He couldn’t go there, even if he wanted to. Zane had fun with women, teasing them, keeping it light. Letting her in wasn’t an option. This thing between them, whatever it was, wasn’t casual, at least not on his end. He’d been watching her from the sidelines for years, falling in love from afar.

  But Zane knew he wasn’t the one for her. Ellie deserved better.

  Even if he wasn’t so fucked up, she was King’s sister, for Christ’s sake. His little sister. If King found out Zane had been putting the moves on Ellie, he’d be in for a world of hurt.

  “Feelin’ any better?”

  He wanted her to trust him, rely on him, even though his brain told him to keep her at arm’s length. Zane worried about letting her down or hurting her unintentionally. She didn’t need any more assholes in her life.

  Ellie was special, even if she didn’t realize it.

  “Yeah.” She nodded.

  “Tonight, we’ll find a clue, and it’ll lead us to the next one. Before you know it, we’ll have this thing solved.”

  “You really think so?” She looked up at him with those big watery eyes, and his heart lurched in response.

  “I know so,” Zane said, hoarsely. Zane wanted to be her hero, the man who protected her. But he’d have to settle for being the one who got revenge for her.

  He cleared his throat. “Come on, we’d better get a move on.”

  ***

  Ellie felt like she was guest-starring on a cop show.

  Yeah, NYPD Blow Something Up.

  They were parked down the street from Marshall’s house, waiting for West’s signal. It was nearly 2:00 AM and the FBI had definitely searched the Marshall’s place, judging by the police tape over the front door. Zane had scouted the area, to see if the FBI had an agent watching the place, but the coast was clear.

  It was a ramshackle mobile home, on the outskirts of town, on a vacant lot. Dave had told her some of Marshall’s story. When he’d broken up with his wife, she’d kept their house, and he’d moved out. The lackluster accommodations had probably contributed to his anger issues. If she had to call this nasty place home, Ellie would be pissed, too. And to think she’d been demoralized about their crappy little apartment. But the double-wide looked like a stiff wind would knock it down. It had to be 40 or 50 years old, and kind of rusty.

  Zane had brought along a thermos full of coffee, laced with half and half. They both took their morning cup of Joe the same way. They were just waiting for the signal to go in and look around.

  Zane had borrowed Storm’s Jeep Wrangler with the soft top since his was out of commission for the time being. The Black Star guys had a thing for Jeeps. She’d seen more than one parked in the driveway. Although, Ellie liked Zane’s best. She wondered what it would be like to take the top off and go for a summer drive, with the wind rippling through her hair.

  People in jail, don’t go on joyrides. Don’t get your hopes up.

  And now she had a case of the jitters, but it wasn’t only from the coffee.

  I stuck at playin’ cop.

  “I wonder if we’ll find anythin’ helpful inside.”

  “Most likely.” Zane grinned. “I know where to look for things people don’t want me to find.”

  “I suppose it’s too much to ask for a detailed map of their evil plans, pinned to the wall like in the movies?” She’d been praying for an easy solution, a quick fix.

  He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s not how it goes down. In real life, the bad guys keep their secrets buried deep.”

  “Well, that sucks.”

  Zane chuckled. “Yeah, it does.”

  “Before you go in, I’m gonna scope it out and make sure the place is safe.” He held up a quelling hand. “Don’t even bother tryin’ to talk me out of it, because you won’t win.”

  “Fine, have it your way.”

  Lord, save me from these alpha males. Both Zane and her brother acted as though she were made of glass.

  He squinted, placing a fingertip against his ear.

  “Do you hear somethin’?” Earlier, he’d put an earbud in so he could communicate with the rest of the group. They’d offered to give her one, but since she had a babysitter, Ellie hadn’t bothered.

  “Are we a go, West?” He listened for the response and then nodded. “We’re on the move.” Zane hopped out of the car, and she followed him.

  Instead of knocking, or opening the door, Zane planted his foot in the middle of it with a swift kick, and the wood split in two. He reached a hand inside and opened the door. Tommy had once told her they were door-kickers, and he hadn’t been kidding.

  Weapon drawn, Zane checked every square inch of the place, while she waited on the front step, glancing around nervously. She heard rustling sounds across the street in the woods.

  Must be a raccoon or a possum. I hope.

  “It’s clear, you can come in.”

  As she walked in the door, a musty smell nearly overwhelmed her. It was like being in a basement, or a cellar. It was a small place with one bed, a postage-stamp sized living room, and a tiny kitchen off to one side.

  “Ugh.” Ellie’s nose twitched.

  “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, we won’t be here long.”

  While she glanced around, Zane spoke with his team over the comms.

  When he finished, Zane glanced at her. “Storm’s been busy on the computers. The FBI executed a raid today.”

  “How’d he get access to that kind of information?” She doubted the FBI posted a press release about ongoing investigations on their website.

  “Yeah, you really don’t wanna know the answer.”

  Fair enough.

  “So, maybe they got some leads, and they’re takin’ it from here?” She’d love to have someone take this responsibility off her plate.

  “Maybe, but I doubt it.”

  Ellie sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  “We’ve got a lot more terrorism expertise than they do. And don’t tell Mack I said this, but their techniques don’t get the job done. Huntin’ down mob bosses and outlaw bikers is much easier. They’re in it for their own self-interest, the prestige, and the dough. As soon as you threaten them with a prison sentence, they fold. Terrorists are true believers, and it’s hard to convince them to turn on one another.”

  As he spoke, Zane pulled a pocketknife from his back pocket and casually slashed open the stained mattress and then pulled the stuffing out, evidently searching for contraband.

  “So, I was right to come to y’all for help?”

  “Exactly.” He went to the fridge, which was mounted on the wall to save space, and poked around in the freezer.

  Meanwhile, Ellie busied herself opening compartments. There were dozens of them. For the most part, she found ordinary stuff like his socks and undies. Gross.

  “Storm might have a contact or two in the government, he can ask about this.”

  Ellie tensed.

  “Don’t worry. He’ll be discreet, of course, and your name will never come up. My guess is, they bagged and tagged the evidence, but these boys were long gone by the time they got here. I think they’ve gone dark.”

  “And what does that mean?” From his tone, going dark sounded ominous.

  “We’ll talk about it later, in the team meetin’. Let’s finish this.”

  They picked through the rest of the trailer but didn’t find much.

  “Dammit.” Zane punched the wall. “This place is clean.” He blew out a breath. “You said he was in the military?”

  “Yeah, Marshall was a Marine.”

  “Evidently, he really is the brains of this operation, and he knows how to cover his tracks. Where did he serve?”

  “In Afghanistan. From what Dave said, he got injured and was discharged, but when he got back home, the VA kept denyin’ his claims.”


  “Why?”

  “They said he had a pre-existin’ condition.”

  “So, they were tryin’ to weasel out of payin’ for his care? Nice. And let me guess, that’s when he took up the sovereign cause?”

  “Yeah, and he seems pretty far out there.” Although she hadn’t spent much time with the man. Maybe Marshall’s well of crazy went a lot deeper than she thought.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here. We ain’t going to find anything.” He walked to the door, opened it, and was about to step outside when he rocked back on his heels. “Son of a bitch.” A bullet smashed into his left shoulder.

  Lightning fast, he slammed it shut and hit the deck.

  “Get down, Ellie.” She crouched down next to him. “Zane, are you okay?”

  They were both dressed in black, so the blood didn’t show, but sweat had broken out on his brow, and his arm shook, as he gripped the gun. She tentatively pressed a hand against the wound, and her palm came back red and wet.

  “I’ve been better,” he drawled. “But it ain’t the worst gunshot wound I’ve ever had.”

  And then she remembered the rustling sound in the woods. Definitely not a raccoon.

  “What the hell are you doing in Marshall’s trailer?” A man called in the distance. He must’ve been waiting for them while they were inside.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “I’m askin’ the questions here, not you. Are you tryin’ to rob him?”

  Ellie couldn’t see the man since she was on her hands and knees, but his voice sounded older, and a bit shaky.

  “What would we steal?” she asked Zane. “Used underwear? He doesn’t have any valuables.” She hadn’t seen a television or a computer. Not even a stereo.

  “No, I work for a security firm,” Zane called. “I wanted him to answer some questions about a case I’ve been workin’ on.”

  “What case?” the man shouted.

  Zane ignored the question. “Do you always go around shootin’ strangers?”

  “When I got a reason to? Yeah. You’re trespassin’.”

  “Look, I’m injured, and I need to see a doctor. We don’t want any trouble. All we’re gonna do is leave. So, we’ll come outside, with our hands raised. I won’t shoot you, and you won’t fire your gun again, okay?”

  After an insanely long pause, he spoke.

  “Fine, you can come out, but don’t make any sudden movements.”

  “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Ellie whispered.

  “Do you wanna call the police and explain why we were breakin’ and enterin’?”

  Ellie groaned. “When you put it that way…”

  As they exited the trailer, an old man stepped out of the tree line. Zane lifted his flashlight, so they could see him better. He had a gun belt strapped to his thin hips. His long scraggly beard hung down all the way to his belt line. A cowboy hat teetered precariously on his head. His face was lined and leathery, like an old football.

  The old codger grunted, when he saw them, as though he wasn’t impressed.

  “What’s your name, old timer?” Zane asked.

  Was there a hint of respect in his tone? The old guy had gotten the drop on him, and she bet it hadn’t happened a lot.

  “None of your damn business.” He scowled. “Why? Are you gonna call the police on me?”

  Ellie chuckled, despite herself.

  “Nah, you didn’t hit anything important.” Zane was maintaining a brave front, but he swayed on his feet. Maybe the blood loss was getting to him? “What are you doin’ up in the middle of the night?”

  “Huntin’ possums, you damn fool. What do you think? They only come out at night.”

  Hunting them to eat? Yuck, but whatever. To each their own. Her dad had loved hunting squirrels, and he’d even made squirrel gravy with his biscuits.

  “Do you know where Marshall went?” Ellie asked, on the oft chance, Grumpy Old Man knew something.

  “No, and if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “What’s he been up to lately? Anythin’ suspicious?” Zane asked. “Or out of the ordinary?”

  “No, he’s been tryin’ to make a livin’, workin’ on a plumbin’ job.”

  A plumbing job? Since when had Marshall learned a trade?

  “Now, get on out of here.” He pointed to the Jeep. “I’m givin’ you to the count of ten, and then I’m gonna put another hole in you.”

  The cranky old coot didn’t have to tell them twice.

  ***

  Zane groaned as Ellie helped him make it up the stairs.

  He had one arm slung over her shoulder, and she guided him along the rail. Hours had passed since they’d been standing together on the road being threatened by an elderly man with a gun.

  She’d wanted to take him to the hospital, but Zane had flatly refused. Ellie didn’t care if they arrested her. She’d been afraid Zane would lose too much blood before they got him home to Tommy. Before going into the service, Tommy had been an EMT, and he served as a medic in the Navy, too.

  Zane had told her they’d both be in trouble.

  And he had a point. He had a gunshot wound, and those were always reported to the police. She was beaten up, too. It was the sort of situation that would make the cops suspicious.

  Not to mention, there was probably a warrant out for her arrest. Both of them would have ended up downtown.

  Tommy had done the best he could under the circumstances. He dug out the bullet, cleaned and sanitized the wound, and then bandaged him up. Ellie had stayed with Zane the entire time, even though she’d felt queasy. Tommy had also given him some antibiotics, ibuprofen, and a bottle of whiskey for the pain.

  “Come on. Let’s get you into bed.” She opened his bedroom door and did her best to ignore how awkward this was. Bomber was perched on the end of the bed, and he wagged his tail in greeting, before going back to sleep.

  Zane was halfway drunk, from the whiskey and swaying on his feet. Tommy had poured some down Zane’s throat before tackling the gunshot wound.

  “You need to get undressed.” Hopefully, he would take care of it himself, and she wouldn’t have to intervene.

  Zane hobbled inside and sat down on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh. He tried to lift his shirt but hissed in pain.

  Ellie groaned. “Here, let me help you.” She gingerly slipped the shirt over his head, trying hard not to injure him further.

  And that’s when she noticed a bruise on his side.

  “You really did a number on yourself, didn’t you?” she asked.

  The bruise extended from back to front, around his side and ended just above his navel.

  “No, Tommy did.”

  “He can be a real bastard sometimes.”

  Her comment was said without any venom. As a kid, he’d roughhoused and held her down for “noogies” and other boyish crap. She used to wish they had brothers so Tommy could bother them instead.

  “Amen.”

  “Why’d he hit you?”

  “I risked Savvy’s safety.”

  “Oh. And he went all caveman on you, huh?”

  Tommy was protective in the extreme, especially toward the women he cared about. And while she found it annoying at times, it could also be charming. At least she knew he really loved her.

  “Yup.

  “Can you help me wash up?” He grimaced. “I’d hop in the shower, but—”

  “Of course, I will.” While Tommy had taken care of cleaning the wound, he hadn’t touched the rest. Zane was blood-spattered, as though he’d been dipped in red paint.

  “Do you need more alcohol?” In case she accidentally jostled him in the process.

  “Yeah.” She handed him the bottle, and he swallowed a couple more mouthfuls. She filled a basin with warm water, and grabbed a washcloth and towel, along with soap.

  He raised his arm but winced.

  She took a breath. “Let me help.” She knelt beside Zane and washed his neck and torso. His abdomen jumped under her hands, r
ippled as she stroked the terrycloth over him, as though mocking her.

  Ellie wished his injuries was the only thing she noticed. He had a killer set of abs, a six-pack, which looked like it had been carved from granite. Her fingertips itched to trace the ridges of each one.

  Ugh. Get it together. This was about helping Zane, not ogling him.

  Careful of his bandages, she washed around the dressing and kept her thoughts purely professional. Okay, 98% professional.

  After she finished washing and drying him off, Zane bent down to unlace his shoes, and nearly fell off the bed in the process.

  “Here, let me get it.” She leaned down and undid his boots.

  Everything about this tableau felt intimate. Helping a guy to bed was something a wife or a girlfriend would do. Not a friend.

  No, they weren’t even friends. They hadn’t been so close in years. She was an acquaintance, or maybe a family friend, considering Zane’s relationship with Tommy.

  Zane sighed. The poor guy could barely keep his eyes open, and a wave of regret hit her. Zane was injured and exhausted. And it was all her fault.

  “God, I’m so sorry.”

  “Why? You didn’t shoot me or punch me.” Zane laid down and his eyes drifted closed.

  “Can I get you anythin’ else?” Ellie knew she should go, and let him get some rest, but she didn’t want to leave.

  “No, I’m fine.” He sighed, his features going slack as sleep tugged at the edges of his consciousness.

  “If you do, just ask. I’ll get it for you.”

  He mumbled unintelligible something in reply.

  Ellie brushed the hair from his forehead. Impulsively, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, her mouth settling against his warm skin.

  When she pulled back, his eyes snapped open, and his pupils swallowed the irises.

  Zane made it a point to never touch her, with his hands at least. His eyes were another story. They followed her everywhere she went. She’d caught him watching her countless times, as though he couldn’t bear to look away. As though she were so damned interesting he had to stare.

  They said nothing for several, long simmering seconds.