Tragic Desires

by A. M. Hargrove

  Her gasp makes my smile widen a bit more. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Exactly what it was intended to. And I’m not talking out of both sides of my mouth.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not. I was just trying to piss you off.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see her mouth open and close several times.

  “Why would you do that?” she finally asks. She dabs at her nose again.

  “Why the hell do you think?”

  “You’re not one of those people who has to get even all the time, are you? Or has to one-up the other person? I hate those kinds of people.”

  Damn! She has me figured out. “I’m sorry for being an ass. I was retaliating and that was wrong. The comment about cutting your hair was intended to rile you up. I never thought you’d actually do it.”

  Her eyes bore into me. Not the most comfortable feeling in the world. It’s a good thing I’m driving as it gives me an excuse not to have to look at her. I feel guilty as hell, like I just broke my mom’s favorite lamp. How does she do this to me?

  Then I’m surprised to hear her say, “I’m sorry too. For running. That was really stupid. I freaked out. It won’t happen again. And thanks for saving me from those guys. You’ve done way more than you should already, so I owe you. I can pay you and I will. We can go to a bank and I’ll withdraw however much money you need. I have money, so that’s not a problem.”

  My head snaps up. “Okay, now that’s something you should’ve told me about. Where did all this money come from? And, by the way, you don’t have any money for the time being. If you make any transactions, it’ll trigger the watch they have on you. Gemini, you’re being tracked. You can’t use any of those things right now. Clear?”

  She nods.

  “So, tell me about the money. Where did it come from?”

  “I don’t know. Here’s the weird thing. I grew up in a small house and my whole life, we lived very frugally. I always thought we were poor. When my mom died, this attorney contacts me and unloads her will on me. He informs me how much money is in her estate and it’s millions. Honestly, I can’t tell you off the top of my head where all the accounts are. I keep everything in a safe deposit box. And this broker handles the investments and stuff. But yeah, I never would’ve known the way I grew up.”

  My wheels are spinning. Now I’m wondering if her mom had ties to the underworld or maybe a drug cartel. “Did your mom ever have clandestine meetings with anyone?”

  “None that I’m aware of.”

  “Any strange people ever show up at your house? Were there any times where she would send you to your room to get you away from any strangers?”

  “No! I promise I would remember that. We talked about her not having boyfriends. I used to tell her I wanted her to find a daddy for me. And her face would always look so sad that I stopped saying those kinds of things. My mom was beautiful. Even when most kids thought their parents were nerds, I never did. My mom was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. And the older I got, I always wondered why she never dated. She kept to herself. You’ll see when we get to the house. I have lots of pictures of her.”

  Nodding, I say, “This sounds more like she was in the Witness Protection Program, then. Keeping to herself. Was she suspicious of anyone?”

  “Maybe. I just always thought she was too protective. But thinking back, she could’ve been suspicious.”

  “Think about things she told you. Clues to what she might’ve been hiding.”

  After a few quiet moments, Gemini says, “I don’t think there’s anything. I’ll keep thinking, but the only things she would tell me were to be very wary of men.”

  “Bingo. Go on.”

  “Just things like not to trust any men. That they were only after one thing. I just thought she was talking about sex.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah. She told me to keep to crowds. And never walk alone. Like I said, I just thought it was basic safety stuff that all moms told their daughters.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Once, when I was pretty young, I came home from school with one of those beanie dolls. They were the thing back then. She went psycho on me … kept wanting to know where I got it. It was some kid’s birthday and she gave all the girls one and the boys got something else. Anyway, my mom went bat-shit crazy on me and I remember crying. She scared me so much.”

  “Okay, that’s completely irrational behavior. She had some deep secret she was hiding and we need to get to the bottom of it. Can you think of anywhere she would hide something? Did your mom work?”

  She’s rubbing her hands together now, as if cold. Without thinking, I put my hand over hers, and what feels like electricity shoots up my arm. What the hell was that? Her movements still, and then she surprises me by latching onto my hand.

  “I’m really scared, Drexel.”

  Her voice is so soft. I give her hand an encouraging squeeze and say, “Don’t be. I’ve been in way worse shit than this.”

  “Tell me?”

  Great. I fucking opened the door on this one. This isn’t something I want or need to discuss. It’s nothing but bitter memories all the way around, but I have to tell her something to ease her mind.

  “I told you I was in the Special Forces. Afghanistan. Iraq. We were sent in to do a lot of dirty work. Infiltrate terror cells. Find and destroy them after we got what we needed. They operate like well-oiled machines, with far-reaching tentacles. We would gather intel in ways you don’t want to know about. Once, we were hiking out of a zone that we’d been watching for weeks. We found ourselves outnumbered and surrounded. Bastards are deceptive. They act like farmers, moving from one village to the next, but beneath their tattered clothing, they’re armed to the teeth. Sometimes strapped with explosives. It’s hard to see because they wear payraan tumbaan, loose-fitting pants and tunics, so they can hide just about anything underneath. You can’t trust anything you see out there and your nerves are constantly on edge. Luck was on our side that day when another team came to our rescue. They were in range when they got our call. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here today.”

  “How long were you there?”

  “Too long and not long enough.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I know. You can’t.” I won’t say anymore because there’s just too damned much.

  “Were you ever scared?”

  “Every day. But you learn to live with it. You learn to control it. If you don’t, it controls you and you die.” Her hand squeezes mine, as if to offer a bit of comfort. Oddly, it does.

  “I guess I need to grow some nads, then, huh?”

  The humor in her question hits me and I laugh. “Yeah. I guess we all do.”

  “Oh, I’d say you already have some.”

  Hmm. I’m not sure how to take that comment. It falls somewhere between her thinking I’m tough or I’m hot. Or maybe I’m overthinking things … or imagining what I want her to think. She’s certainly gotten under my skin. Or maybe I should say she’s gotten to my dick, because that’s a damn fact. That’s unusual because even though I can be a softie when it comes to helping people, getting involved with the opposite sex is not something I ever do on the job.

  But when I look at her, it’s not just my dick that reacts. My whole body wants her. On me, around me, I want her every-fucking-where. She’s unlike anything I could conjure in my wildest fantasies. But she’s a total fucked-up piece of work. And that’s the last thing I need. And Aali Imaam is after her. Doesn’t that make for the perfect girlfriend? What the hell am I thinking? Girlfriend? Where the hell did that come from?

  “Is everything okay over there?” she asks.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Because you’re squeezing the crap out of my hand.”

  “Shit. Sorry.” I let go.

  “That’s not what I wanted. I just wanted you to ease up a bit. I like it when you hold my hand.”

  “Well, don�
��t get too used to it. We have a job to do.” That was harsh. I rub my face and try to figure out what the hell I’m doing here.

  “Okay. It was just …” She stops.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  We’re both quiet for a while. I look over and she has her head back, eyes closed. Maybe she’s sleeping. She’ll need it. We have a long night ahead of us.

  WE PULL INTO San Angelo around nine o’clock. She directs me to her house. It’s a small bungalow in a quiet neighborhood. Since I want to make sure there aren’t any people watching, I drive around the block. She’s hunched down on the floor so no one can see her. There aren’t any other cars on the street, but I won’t take chances.

  “Give me the neighborhood layout. Are there any alleys?”

  “No. There’s a street behind ours and then a school. There’s a park two blocks to the east and a church two blocks to the west.”

  “Is your backyard fenced in?”

  “No.”

  “What about your neighbors’ yards?”

  “They weren’t when I lived here, but they might be now.”

  “Let’s find a place with Wi-Fi and check out Google Earth. It’s updated fairly frequently but may not give us the most recent images. We can look and see anyway. It’s the best we have right now. I should’ve called my office. I’m usually much better than this.” Jesus, if I keep fucking up, I’m going to end up losing everything, including her.

  It doesn’t take long to locate a coffee shop and luckily, none of her neighbors have fences, so that cements my plans.

  “We’ll park in the church lot. Then we’ll go in on foot and enter through the back. Have you ever worn night-vision goggles?” I ask.

  “Sure. I wear them all the time.”

  “Okay, smart-ass.”

  “Seriously? Drexel, where in the world would I wear night-vision goggles?”

  “I don’t know. Hunting?”

  She shakes her head. “Yeah, my mom and I used to hunt big game in our backyard when I was a kid. Lions and tigers. Once I even shot a wildebeest.”

  “Okay, enough. You’ll be wearing them tonight. No lights allowed. Got that?”

  “Yes, SIR!”

  “Cut the crap, Gemini.”

  “I’m not your subordinate.”

  “You are tonight. You’ll do as I say. Understand?” She salutes me. I say, “You’re not doing it correctly.”

  “God, you’re such a douche.”

  Then I laugh. Really hard. Soon after, she joins in. She has such a beautiful smile and I want to get lost in it. Well, that and in her pants. But I know we have to get this job done.

  Her next question throws me for a loop. “Do you do that thing with your eyes on purpose?”

  “What thing?” I’m puzzled.

  “The way you look at me with your eyes half closed.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” I honestly haven’t the slightest idea.

  Her cheeks pink. They look amazing. It’s the first time I’ve seen any color in them. She bows her head so I prod her. “Tell me, Gemini.”

  Her voice is a whisper. “Your eyes. Sometimes when you look at me. They’re … um … well, they’re sexy.”

  She takes me by surprise and I don’t know what to say.

  “I guess I shouldn’t have said that.”

  Her voice pulls me out of my stupidity. “No, I’m flattered.” There are all sorts of things I’d like to say to her, but this isn’t the time for this conversation. Maybe later. “Shall we?” I ask as I extend my hand.

  We drive to the church and park in the most obscure spot we can find. Then I put on my backpack, loaded with my necessary gear. I also hand her a set of night-vision goggles, help her into them, and give her a quick course on how they work. After I put mine on, we set off on foot, through the neighborhood. “Remember, once inside, no talking. Only write on the pad I gave you. The house may be bugged. Look for what’s not obvious … and grab whatever you think may help us. It can be even the smallest thing. If you think it’s important, take it. Anything that will give us clues to what your mom may have been involved in. And if you have any letters she wrote you, I want you to grab those too.”

  “Got it.”

  The yard is overgrown and the back door is boarded shut. We’ll have to get inside another way, a window perhaps. Careful not to make any noise, I check all the windows in the back. I eventually locate one that isn’t locked. The window is broken so it’s easy to open. After I push her through, I go in behind.

  The place is a mess. Drawers emptied, pictures torn off the wall, cushions slashed, closets emptied. It’s been destroyed.

  I motion to her to come toward me. Then I write to her, “Grab everything.” She nods in understanding.

  Gemini walks off to another room so I tag along. She enters what I presume to be her bedroom and goes to the closet where she pulls out a shoebox. I empty the contents into my backpack.

  The answers are in this house. I know they are. My gut shouts at me. Think, Drex. Where would you hide something this important?

  I quickly scan the floor. It’s carpeted. I pull a utility knife from my backpack and slice into the carpeting. Gemini looks at me and I shake my head. What I need to know is what’s beneath this carpet. When I lift it up, I find old linoleum. So I move to the next room. I find the same thing in all the rooms.

  Grabbing my notepad, I write, “Attic?”

  She leads me to a door with a narrow set of stairs. I head up and find myself in the attic. There’s no way her mother would leave anything important out in the open. If she were indeed in the Witness Protection Program, she would’ve hidden this type of information safely away. I head to the rafters to check if there are any enclosed spaces up here. Nothing.

  Once I’m back downstairs, I check the closets, looking for false walls, but I come up with nothing again. Frustration mounts. There’s a fireplace in the living room. I write another note. “Ever use this?”

  Gemini nods yes. That blows that possibility.

  “Basement?” I write.

  I follow her down some steps. The room’s been redone, which mean here’s my best chance. The first place I check is the walls. All the pictures have been pulled off so I don’t have to bother with that. The more I think about it, the more I realize that it will be somewhere so obscure that I may have to settle for the fact that we won’t find it.

  I write Gemini another note. “Any walls patched?”

  She smiles and motions for me to follow her. We get to the laundry room and she points to a wall covered with shelves.

  I help her remove the shelves. Behind them is a two-by-two-foot square in the sheetrock that doesn’t quite match the rest of the wall. But it extends to the floor where the molding doesn’t match, either. I dig in my pack and find my multi-purpose tool. I pry the wood away from the wall and behind it is a space devoid of sheetrock. Instead I find a metal box wedged inside. I pull it out and motion to Gemini to head for the stairs. We need to get out of here.

  We head in the direction of the church, but my instincts proved correct. I hear cars on the street of the otherwise quiet neighborhood.

  “Run, and keep to the shadows. Follow me.” She has trouble keeping up so I do the usual and toss her over my shoulder. Yep, this is getting old.

  We make it back to the car, and I don’t waste any time getting us away from there. Something tipped them off and I’m sure it was the noise of us ripping the molding off the wall. We have a couple of hours before the Lady Belle arrives, so I head out of town to our designated meeting point.

  “You know, you’re going to have to get in better shape,” I tell her.

  She inhales and it sounds like she’s just sucked all the oxygen out of the car. “You can kiss my ass. I used to be in great shape until these skull-smashers ruined my life, so before you make any more comments about the crappy shape I’m in, you can shove them all right the hell up your tight ass.”

  “Well, I gues
s you told me, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. So why don’t you shut up for a change?”

  “A bit touchy, aren’t you?”

  I see it coming at me, but I don’t expect the strength behind it. She nails me with a good old-fashioned punch, connecting with my right deltoid. She has a knuckle popped out so it digs into my muscle. Stings a bit.

  “Damn, girl. That hurt.”

  “Good. Now stop saying such stupid things. I don’t do well with stupid.”

  Rubbing my arm, I say, “Duly noted.”

  “Where are we going?”

  I want to laugh, but I know it’ll piss her off. “To a friend’s. He lives about twenty miles out of town. That’s where the Lady Belle will pick us up.”

  I grab the phone and call Jeff Stone. It rings a couple of times before he answers.

  “So what’s your ETA?” he says in his Texan drawl, and then laughs.

  “Just leaving San Angelo now,” I explain and tell him we’re closing in on his place.

  “Just ring me when you’re a couple of minutes out and I’ll open the gate,” Jeff says.

  “Thanks, man.”

  “Do you know everyone?” Gemini asks.

  Shaking my head, I say, “No, but when you’re in the military, you get connected.”

  “I’ll say. Do you think those guys were the terrorists?”

  “Either that or CIA.”

  “Why do you think the CIA wants me?”

  “Because the terrorists do. They think you know something if the terrorists want you. Besides, now that we have this box, there may be something in here that they really do want.”

  She shifts in her seat and looks at me. “Why all of a sudden? Why not try to get me before now?”

  I pause to think for a minute and then it hits me. “Your accident. You said you were missing for a couple of days, right?”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Did your boyfriend file a missing person’s report?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then your picture was plastered all over the news. That’s why. These people have been hunting down your mom for a long time. Let me ask you something—do you resemble her?”

  “Maybe a little. She was dark haired but had intense blue eyes. She was really pretty. I’m not even close to what she looked like. Where’s that backpack? I’ll show you a picture. I have tons.”