by Jacki Renée
Bryan kisses the back of my hand without taking his eyes off the road.
Marie is waiting for us when we pull into the driveway. I hug the girls and remind them to behave.
Bryan pulls out of the driveway onto the street. In the side-view mirror, I glimpse Kourtney and Emma jump and high-five each other. Bryan laughs. He’s looking in the rearview mirror.
He takes me to a popular club in the heart of Boulder’s nightlife. Bryan orders a beer. I order a Midori Sour.
A comfortable silence descends upon us and we listen to the band play. I like all kinds of music except for hard rock, heavy metal, and gangster rap. People are moving and shaking on the dance floor. The tables in the club are filled. It’s busy for a weeknight.
Curiosity gets the best of me and I have to ask him. “Did you sleep with any of the Horny Toads?”
“Horny Toads?”
“Those three moms who fall all over you.”
“Hell no! I don’t fuck other men’s wives.” The squint of disgust clouds his eyes. “Why would you ask me that?”
“I’m not trying to offend you. It’s just that our friendship bothers them.”
A sly smile now crosses his face. He reaches for my hand, playing with my fingers. “So that’s what we’re calling it? Friends?”
I return the smile, intertwining our fingers. “Do you date?” My heart beats faster.
“Are you asking if I dated as in long term relationships or if I dated as in no strings attached?” He brings our fingers up to his lips.
“Both.” My heart pounds as hard as the drummer is beating his drums. “I’m asking both.”
“Mostly, I did the no-strings-attached thing. I’ve taken women out, but they knew what was happening at the end of the night. I’ve had a friends-with-benefits relationship, too.”
My hand pulls away. Is that what this is?
“Which relationship do you prefer?” I ask.
“It depends on the woman.”
“Do you believe in monogamy?”
Bryan takes a long swallow from his beer bottle. He looks me in the eyes. “Yes, but I haven’t always practiced it. I didn’t lie to women I’ve dated. I told them upfront where they stood with me.”
I drink down half my Midori Sour. I guess I wasn’t expecting him to be so forthcoming.
“How long was your last relationship?” I need to know.
Someone slaps Bryan’s shoulder. He turns around glaring. “What are you doing here, Tony?”
“I’m having drinks with two deputies. Hello, Danielle, it’s nice to see you again. May we join you?” He waves two people over.
“Do you mind?” Bryan frowns.
“First round’s on me,” Anthony offers, gesturing with his hands. “What are you two drinking?”
Alpha Male rumbles his reply, but his eyes search the club.
“Can I get a shot of Absolute too?” I ask.
Bryan cocks an eyebrow at me.
I shrug while I answer, “Kid-free tonight.”
Bryan’s lips turn up in that smile. “Shot of Absolute for the lady.”
I scoot my chair closer to him, making room for the intruders. His arm hangs over the back of my chair. His casual body language is contagious. I relax as well.
Anthony returns with our drinks and introduces everyone. Bryan takes my drinks from his friend and sets them on a napkin in front of me.
“What are you doing in a club on a work night, Mr. Hawk?” Anthony takes the empty seat across from Bryan
“Having drinks and enjoying the music. Why aren’t you guys on duty?”
“Got a call about a yummy mummy being harassed by a dirty old man.” He lifts his beer bottle and salutes his friend.
“If you’re on duty, you don’t need this.” Bryan snatches the bottle. “Fast hands for a dirty old man.”
“He has to make up for his other deficiencies,” Anthony whispers for everyone to hear.
“No deficiencies here.” Bryan holds up his hand pointing to the index and ring fingers.
I laugh along with the guys, getting the joke. Rumor has it, if a man’s ring finger is longer than his index finger, he has a long penis.
“Old wives’ tale.” Anthony grabs for the bottle. Bryan moves it out of reach.
I toss back the vodka from the shot glass, not giving the liquor time to sit on my tongue. It slides down my throat. I take a long drink of the Midori Sour.
The antics at the table stop.
Bryan’s eyebrows meet his hairline. He shifts in his chair. “Do you want another?” he asks, his voice deep and sensual.
“No, thank you.” I watch him watching me. “One is my limit.”
“Don’t be a lightweight.” Ernesto motions to the waitress passing by. “Can we get another shot of Absolute?”
“The lady said one is her limit.” The tone of Bryan’s voice makes the atmosphere drop to minus twenty degrees. The casual body language now a façade. Alpha Male is ready to attack. I glimpse the retreating back of the waitress.
I squeeze Bryan’s thigh, hoping to calm him.
“What part of law enforcement are you in?” I turn to Anthony. He too looks ready to pounce.
“Sheriff’s department,” Valerie answers and elaborates on her background until the friendly conversation around the table resumes, but the banter seems forced.
The band starts to play ‘80s music.
“Come on, Danielle. Let’s hit the dance floor and show these people how to move.” Valerie sways in her seat.
I want Bryan to take me to the dance floor. Instead, he asks if I’m ready to leave, which I’m not.
Once the band takes a break, and the DJ takes over, Valerie and I make our way to the crowded floor. Since our date got interrupted, I want to dance for the rest of the night.
It’s been a while since I’ve been to a club. James never wanted to hang out with me and people from my study group after finals. He’d mope around the apartment as I got dressed. He’d remind me to not accept drinks unless I watched the bartender pour it. He never said have fun. Instead he’d compliment me on how I looked, tell me don’t let random strangers dance all up on me, and not spend any money unless it was an emergency.
When Ernesto shows up on the dance floor, I chance a quick glance over my shoulder. Bryan and Anthony have their heads together in what appears to be a deep conversation. The song is an up-tempo beat and I keep my movements tame and the distance between Ernesto and me friendly. Valerie’s dancing with a man whose height puts him at boob level.
The song morphs into a Michael Jackson song. It’s like the DJ played it just for me. I get into my groove and turn my back on Ernesto to face Bryan. He looks up. Our eyes connect. My movements losing some inhibitions, I dance and lip-sync the words to him.
He sits up. Watching me. A sexy smile on his face. His gaze doesn’t leave mine, even when his friend leaves him at the table.
Anthony two-steps to the dance floor, then dances with a woman near me.
I wink at Bryan and turn back to the dance floor.
The smile on Anthony’s dance partner’s face and come-hither look is the encouragement he needs to gyrate on her butt.
The DJ mixes in a reggae beat. Closing my eyes. I rock my hips side to side. And imagine Bryan on the dance floor with me.
Opening my eyes, I plead with him, through body movements, to join me. Bryan rises out of the seat like he’s hypnotized. He steps onto the dance floor, wading through the other dancers. His eyes never leave mine.
He hesitates, looking unsure of what to do next once he reaches me. I take his hands and place them on my hips.
“Dancing is like having sex, but on the dance floor.”
I whisper in his ear until he rocks with me, catching the rhythm. I turn around, my back to his front.
We stay on the dance floor for the rest of the night rocking and grinding on each other.
Having sex on the dance floor.
***
We have a holiday tra
dition of buying our tree seven days before Christmas, and this year is no different. After I pick her up from Bryan’s house, Kourtney and I go to the mall to do a little shopping, then stop at a nearby lot to get a small tree.
We return to our apartment late in the evening. She’s fallen asleep. I rouse her and help her climb out of the truck.
She yawns and stretches and stumbles a bit. “What about the tree?”
“I’ll come back and get it.” I grab our shopping bags.
“Can you carry it by yourself?” Her feet drag as she walks toward the stairs.
“It’s not heavy,” I tell her.
When we get to the last step, I notice the door is cracked open. I drop the bags, pick up Kourtney, and run down the stairs to the truck.
“What’s wrong, Mommy? Why is the door open?”
Fueled by anger, I make an impulsive decision.
“Here, baby.” I set the timer for ten minutes and hand her my phone. “If I’m not back when the alarm goes off, call 911. Don’t unlock the doors or get out of the truck until I come get you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mommy.” Tears pool in her eyes.
I go to the back of my truck and pull out a baseball bat before handing her the keys. “Lock the doors and don’t open them for anyone.” I give her a kiss on the cheek, then close the door. The alarm activates.
I jog back to the apartment building and up the stairs. Using the tip of the bat, I push the door open and step into the living room. I flip the light switch.
Nothing.
I give my eyes a second to adjust to the darkness, then move around the living room with the bat in position, ready to swing at the first thing moving.
It takes only a minute to search the kitchen and dining room.
My feet kick or step on things scattered around the floor. I don’t have time to ponder what they are. In a few minutes, Kourtney’s calling for help.
I make my way down the hall to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. I use the bat like an arm to search it as best I can with no lights.
In my room, I search the closet and underneath the bed. In Kourtney’s room, I do the same.
On my way out of her room, I relax the bat to my side. But it’s too soon. The bat is knocked out of my hand at the same time someone jumps me from behind.
My attacker covers my mouth and nose with something wet and soft.
I rush backward, slamming us into the wall.
She grunts.
I reach behind me until my fingers tighten around hair. I pull as hard as I can as darkness consumes me.
BRYAN’S INTERLUDE
While I wait for the satellite image to load, I think about last night. Dani and I went back to her apartment. Normally I take the lead, but there’s something about her that stops me from doing what I’m trained to do. Rules and protocol fly out the window. I want her to decide when we have sex. She’s still guarded, understandably so. But it was a turn-on to watch her struggle to maintain control as we dry-humped like teenagers. She’s different from the more experienced women I’ve been assigned to extract information from.
I left her apartment at two in the morning, hard and frustrated, with the smell of her perfume all over me.
Too bad my shadow showed up at the club, prompting Tony, Ramirez, and Summers to back me up. I was unarmed and had given Porter and Mitchells the night off. I have to hand it to my team; Dani had no idea something was wrong.
My shadow’s getting bold with her stalking. Her curiosity draws unnecessary attention. I’m surprised Dani didn’t see through her act at Back to School Night. I’ll have to put a stop to it soon. Yes, my relationship with Dani and Kourt is different, but she need not know that.
The satellite image finally finishes. My jaw tightens. I stare at the monitor.
“You’re cold you bastard. Dani’s not in North Carolina and I’ll keep you hunting until I’m ready for you to find her,” I say to Edwards’s image.
He landed in Canada over a week ago and is back on American soil. Thanks to Kimberly’s obliviousness, now I’m able to track his every move. I breathe a little easier.
If he’d gotten to Dani and Kourt before me, things would’ve escalated and my daughter would be a pawn to use against Phantom.
Every move Edwards makes mirrors traitors seen in a Hollywood movie or television show. I know Dani has what I’m looking for. She just doesn’t know it.
We’ve searched the apartment in Arizona and the house she bought once they moved in. Sweepers searched the apartment here in Colorado. We’re looking for anything that opens the disk drive on Edwards’s laptop.
The stolen top-secret information isn’t stored on the hard drive, and without access to the driver, I can’t figure out the external hard-drive he used. Edwards built that dinosaur laptop with nonworking USB ports and no button to open the driver. For eight years, I tried everything in my arsenal to bypass the last security block. I’m stuck.
My cell phone rings. “Hawk,” I answer without checking caller ID.
“Sir, at twenty-one hundred hours a 911 call from Kourtney Edwards was received and broadcast over the sheriff radio. She said they got home and their front door was opened. I’ve been unable to communicate with Corporal Dial. Sweepers ETA six minutes. Phantom’s Sheriff Units are en route. I’m ten minutes out,” Lieutenant Colonel Anthony Paul reports.
The background noise of the wailing siren emphasizes his words and triggers the urgency for me to get to Danielle and Kourtney. Quick.
“I’m on my way. Locate Corporal Dial. Instruct him to have his ass in my office at zero six hundred hours or I’ll put a bullet in his fucking head.”
I thought I’d made it clear to every agent, stupid mistakes will not be tolerated. U.S. Phantom Military is a global success because we are trained to pay attention to every detail.
This assignment is too personal to leave it in the hands of incompetence. I fight horrific visions of my girls’ lifeless bodies lying somewhere dark and bare.
Squashing the panic that threatens to take over, I open my desk drawer, pull out my firearm and holster, grab my keys and cell phones, and I’m out my office door.
“Bravo. Hotel. Four. Charlie. Two,” I shout before closing the door. Everything in my office shuts down and arms itself.
“Riley, alert Major Ricci to an emergency call. Rendezvous at Kalmia Avenue.”
Porter rushes toward the elevator. The doors close in his face. I’ll make sure Paul doesn’t hurt him. I can’t wait.
“Roger that, sir. What floor would you like?” Riley asks.
“Garage.”
I slip my arms through the holster straps.
Disengage the magazine.
Check the ammunition; slap it back in place.
Take the safety off.
Rack the slide.
My gun is hot.
I holster my weapon.
Inhale.
Exhale.
I say a prayer, bolting through the elevator doors the minute they slide open. I press the button on the key fob. The Camaro’s engine thunders and the driver’s door opens.
The wheels spin on the concrete as I accelerate out of the parking garage.
I ignore traffic laws and whip through the streets of downtown Boulder. Being pulled over is the least of my worries. Our vehicles have specialized government plates.
My building is fifteen minutes from Danielle and Kourtney. I need to get to them in five.
My military cell phone syncs to the car’s audio sound system. “Call Lieutenant Colonel Paul,” I command.
The sound of his phone ringing bellows through the speakers.
“I’m four minutes out. The Sweepers are on the scene and one Phantom Sheriff’s unit,” Paul reports.
“Danielle and Kourtney?” I ask, crossing the double-yellow lines to get around stopped traffic.
“Summers doesn’t see anyone. Sweepers are combing the area. Give them a minute.”
“They may not have a minut
e. Corporal Dial is supposed to watch them when they’re in that damn apartment. There should not have been a fucking emergency call.” My fingers tighten around the steering wheel, my car crossing back over the double-yellow lines.
“Bry, I feel you. I will not let anything happen to them. What are you driving?”
“Camaro.”
“Any available units near Sixteenth and Pearl. Sheriff’s escort needed to Kalmia Avenue for a two, zero, one, three, silver-gray Chevy Camaro. License plate Bravo. Hotel. Alpha. Whiskey. Kilo. Zero. Four,” Paul announces over the sheriff’s radio.
I push the Camaro through a yellow light that’s about to turn red.
A Boulder County Sheriff’s unit pulls alongside of me when I cross Nineteenth Street. We acknowledge one another, then he falls behind. Up ahead another sheriff’s unit waits in the intersection while blocking traffic.
“Any communication with that corporal?” I ask.
“Negative. Corporal Dial’s not at his post.”
“Death is the only excuse he gets for neglecting his duties.”
“I’m here. Kourtney’s in the back of the Range Rover. Corporal Summers is trying to get her to open the door. Danielle went into the apartment with a baseball bat.”
“Locate her.” I disconnect the call and sync my personal cell phone. “Riley, connect Dani’s phone.”
“Hel-lo?” she stutters, answering on the first ring.
“Kourt, I’m on my way. Don’t be afraid. My friends are there to help you. Do you see Tony?”
“Yes.”
“Do you see Vin?”
“He’s getting out of his truck.”
“You can open the door for one of them.”
“Mommy said I can’t until she comes back,” she cries harder. “I’m scared.”
“Don’t cry, baby. I’m coming. Stay on the phone with me.”
To keep her calm, I hum an old lullaby.
When I make a right onto Kalmia and park, I scan the area with my eyes while running in the direction of the white Range Rover with a Christmas tree tied to the roof.
Bystanders gathering in front of other apartment buildings. Neighbors looking out their windows. Two Boulder County Sheriff Units blocking off the street. Three Phantom Sheriff Units in front of the building, emergency lights flashing. Two black Phantom Suburban trucks inconspicuously parked, one on each corner. Major Vincenzio Ricci’s Suburban parked in the middle of the street.