Tripp

by Irish Winters

  “Yes, and his mother is hellbent on locating the man who saved his life. Trust me, she has the power and the means to find you.” Alex’s leaned forward. “She wants to publicly thank the idiot. How long do you think it’ll take after she outs you, before you’re arrested and charged? Or badgered by every son of a bitchin’ news outlet for interviews?”

  Crap. Pursing his lips, Tripp stared down at the photo of the little shit who should’ve kept his mouth shut. He couldn’t blame Spencer, though. This wasn’t his fault. It was his. He was the idiot. “Then why’s he just going to NVCC?” Tripp asked more calmly. “Why isn’t he at Georgetown with all the other rich kids?” Or Harvard? Or Yale?

  “Because he chose to stay with his friend, the other young man you rescued.”

  Tripp sank back into his chair. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was just doing what’s right.”

  “You’re too emotional, Tripp. You go off half-cocked. You need to think a helluva lot longer about all possible consequences before you spring into action.”

  “Which is why no one else ever does anything! Jesus!” Inside, Tripp seethed at the thought of leaving vulnerable people to fend for themselves on the mean streets of America. It wasn’t right. And… But… “What about Abdul Ikram! He was just a kid! He…” Tripp blinked at the memories pouring out of his big mouth, but he was helpless to stop them. “He murdered him, Boss. Don’t you get it? He murdered Ikram right in front of me and a couple dozen witnesses. But did anyone else care?! Did anyone do a gawddamned thing to stop that rat bastard from killing a kid?!”

  Alex cocked his head at the outburst. Just that fast, the predator stalking Tripp turned into something deadlier. “What about Abdul Ikram?” Alex asked gently. “Who murdered him?”

  Alex’s voice was so damned calm, Tripp wanted to puke. If only Alex would fight back! War he knew how to deal with, but this steady, logical assault on all that Tripp held dear kept coming out of left field. The air in this spacious office was suddenly so damned thin.

  “That pompous ass, Anwar Khan, the Crimson Fuckin’ Sword of Allah!” Tripp roared, his entire body overheated and sweat running down his back, between his shoulder blades. “Anwar Khan. Yeah, him.”

  Yes, forever—him. Tripp pursed his lips and blew out a breath to slow the pounding panic filling his head. Shit, he was making a fool of himself, but the damned cat was finally out of the bag, and now Alex knew what drove him. That day. That poor teenage kid. Of all the atrocities Tripp had witnessed overseas, Ikram’s cold-blooded murder would forever stand out like a big, black, fuckin’ monster filling up the blurred backstop of everything else.

  Pursing his lips, Tripp blew out a gutful of air, wishing he’d stayed in bed with Ashley, and that he’d kept his mouth shut. Almost wishing he’d never taken on the righteous cause of being Alexandria’s only vigilante. Because, damn it, Alex was right. An honest, hard-working vigilante couldn’t help anyone once he was outed. Not in this day and age.

  “How’d you get these photos?” Tripp asked meekly, wishing he’d brought his hard-assed boss another cup of the high-test brew from the breakroom’s overused, beat- to-shit coffee-maker. Alex had yet to rip Tripp’s head off. That had to mean something.

  “That’s beside the point. You were in charge that day, weren’t you? It was your responsibility to hand over the prisoner.”

  Tripp nodded. “Yes, and I fucked it up. I should’ve stopped Khan. I should’ve saved Ikram. He was just a kid. Instead—”

  “Instead, nothing. There was no way you could’ve stopped Khan. We can’t save everyone.”

  “I know that, Boss, but shit…” Tripp ran a tired-as-hell hand over his stubborn head. There was no way he’d tell his boss about the nightmares from that day.

  “Abdul is why you hunt at night.”

  “He’s why I do a lot of things.” Like cry, rant, and forever need to stop cruelty before it takes over the world.

  “That explains things,” Alex said quietly. “Do you still want on my TEAM?”

  “On,” Tripp answered without hesitation. There was no vigilante without a job. Hell, there was no more vigilante either way, with or without a job. Not with the Secretary of State looking for him.

  Alex took his seat. “I’ll take care of Secretary Nantz. From now on, you’re in charge of my newly established Civilian Anti-Terrorism Team. You’ll work with the Commandant of the National Guard, but you’ll answer directly to me. Your focus will be working with the local police, not behind their backs. You’ll organize civilian community outreach officers to assist victims of crimes, train other civilian professionals to report low-level crimes, like ATM burglary attempts, muggings, and vandalism in vulnerable neighborhoods and in unlighted parking lots. Or outside the local Health Department,” he said pointedly. “You’ll set up civilian patrols to report credible threats overheard in biker bars, not to act on them, damn it.”

  “What if the police can’t arrive in time? Am I…? Are we supposed to sit on our thumbs and just hang around and watch?”

  Alex glanced at the photos. “You didn’t use firearms defending any of these people.”

  “I didn’t want to kill anyone.”

  “And yet you got your point across.”

  “So…” Tripp ruminated a second. “We can rough up the thugs we find in commission of crimes, just not kill them?”

  “Physical restraint is legal in the prevention of any violent crime. But notice I said restraint. It does not include beating alleged assailants with your bare hands.” Alex’s gaze flashed to Tripp’s knuckles, which were still plenty bruised and raw. “Your civilian team will be one of many being established across the country. Stronger, more organized local teams are President Adams’ way of supporting our country’s police departments. They’re stretched thin these days. I’m delegating the Virginia and District Civilian Anti-Terrorism Team to you. You’ll provide local police offices with a volunteer army of highly-trained civilians who are knowledgeable and physically capable of standing up to bullies. The TEAM has a good reputation in this country, Tripp. Don’t fuck it up.”

  “You’re putting me in charge? Just me?”

  “You’re the first vigilante I’ve ever had to deal with. This is me, dealing with you.”

  Tripp was certain Alex had just called him a dumbass. “So basically, I’ll be doing the same thing I’m doing now, except with your authority, more people, and…” He cleared his throat. “…more restraint?”

  “No, you’ll be in charge of men and women who, like you, aren’t willing to stand by and watch our country crumble,” Alex snapped. “You know damned well how easily evil triumphs when good men choose to do nothing! Your people won’t have the authority to arrest or shoot anyone, but they can be the eyes and ears of local law enforcement. They can prevent idiots from damaging property or harming innocent bystanders. Choose your team wisely. I did.”

  Your people. Tripp liked the sound of that. Made him feel like he belonged to something bigger than himself again. “I can hire former military?”

  “And physically able civilians capable of serving and following orders. Can you do that for me?”

  For me. Tripp recognized Alex’s request for personal commitment. Swallowing hard at the faith this fierce man had in him, Tripp nodded and almost replied, ‘Yes, sir.’ But that would’ve landed him in a steaming pile of shit. He caught himself in time and said, “You bet, Boss.”

  And a more loyal motherfucker had never been born.

  This was Alex’s true talent, getting badassed former warriors to follow him into Hell and back. Damned if he hadn’t just finessed Tripp into accepting one helluva lot more responsibility and a fuck ton more work. Precisely what he needed.

  “Boss, Mom’s really struggling over what you’ve done for Trish,” Tripp segued quietly. “Would you have time to meet with her later today?”

  Alex settled back into his chair like a contented beast, the ice in hi
s blue eyes not as sharp as earlier. “For you and Andy, anything. Let me know when she can make it here, or I can go to her.”

  “Ahh, err, no.” Tripp cleared his throat. This man just kept giving, and that open-door policy of his was damned humbling. “It’d be better if she came here. Andy needs a break, and… Thanks for everything you and your wife have done for my mother and sister. Trish might not deserve it, but—”

  “We’ll never know that for certain, will we?” Jumping to his feet, Alex grabbed hold of Tripp’s hand, his grip a damned USMC vise that would’ve brought tears to Tripp’s eyes if they hadn’t already been misty.” Every second counts in death struggles, Tripp. That’s just the way it works in our business. Now get the hell out of my office. Staff meeting’s in five.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Alex folded his trim, athletic frame between the armrests of his executive chair in his Situation Room, straightened his tie, and watched his TEAM take their places around the oversized, black walnut conference table. Ember and Rory Dennison were still on family leave after the birth of their little girl. Walker Judge and his wife Persia were in East Asia, along with David Tao and several other operators. They were working a highly illegal, covert op to intercept yet another child smuggling ring running underage girls between Cambodia and China. Sex trafficking had become the twenty-first century’s blackest plague. No country was immune, not even America.

  Two of his three senior agents arrived first. Mark Houston took his place at Alex’s right side; Harley Mortimer took the chair to his left. Tripp nodded when he followed Jameson in, pulling Alex back to the reason for this staff meeting. When the last to enter—Mother—took the only available seat beside Jameson, Alex lifted to his feet and began.

  Sliding a poster in Braille of all upcoming changes across the table to Jameson, he opened with, “As you know, I’ve closed our Seattle office. Those agents are relocating to the East Coast as we speak. But we can’t accommodate that kind of growth here in Alexandria any longer. A new TEAM Headquarters is under construction in far western Virginia.”

  “Are all of them moving out of Seattle?” Izza Maher asked. “Even Cassidy?” Izza had begun her TEAM employment in Seattle, but moved East when she’d married Connor.

  “Yes, Cassidy and Jude accepted my offer,” Alex replied. “Last I heard from Murphy, all but twelve agents are coming with him.”

  Murphy Finnegan and Roy Hudson had been Alex’s first senior agents. Both resigned at the same time, but Murphy had re-upped, after retirement proved boring.

  Alex activated the big screen on the wall behind him, and stepped to the side to let his TEAM absorb the blueprint of their future. “We’re moving this January, and this is where we’re going.” The overhead map displayed five major buildings under construction in a large tract of land in western Virginia, plus three buildings already completed. “The two large outbuildings are barns.” He highlighted them with his laser pointer. “This one is where Harley will oversee the breeding and training of work and comfort dogs; the other’s for Maverick’s therapy horses.”

  Between Maverick’s horses and Harley’s dogs, Alex was establishing a safe haven where returned vets could rehab among warriors who understood what they’d been through. The cottages for those men and women hadn’t been built yet, but the barns were already occupied.

  “My monsters can’t wait to move,” Harley added, his hazel eyes bright with excitement. The monsters were his rambunctious twin boys.

  Maverick lifted one hand from the table. “And Kiri’s got another batch of kittens if anyone’s interested. Just offering.” His daughter operated her own cat rescue operation, and he operated Everyone’s a Cowboy, a local therapeutic riding program for special needs children. Maverick had agreed to expand it to include veterans. Alex agreed to carry the cost of that expansion. In his mind, it was a total win/win. Maverick needed the therapy that came with riding those big horses more than he realized.

  “Put me down for two,” Zack spoke up. “Song and MiKi have been nagging Mei to let them have a cat. I figure, the more the merrier.”

  “With your two Pitbulls?” Mother asked snarkily.

  “Sure,” Harley chimed in. “Introduce them carefully, and they’ll be friends for life.”

  “Hmmpf,” Mother grumped. “I doubt that.”

  “That’s because you haven’t seen Fluffy and Moo Moo recently. They sleep with LiLi, in her bed,” Zack emphasized, “which is why my other girls want cats. They want something to cuddle, too.”

  Fluffy, a brindle, and Moo Moo, a black and white, were the Pitbulls in question. He’d gotten them after LiLi’s abduction, more for Mei’s peace of mind than his girls’ protection. Alex didn’t doubt they would take down anyone stupid enough to go after one of Zack’s girls, but they were the sappiest protectors Alex had ever seen. Well, except for his TEAM. The men sitting around this table could be pretty damned sappy, too.

  Alex continued. “The smallest outbuilding…” He used a laser pointer again. “…is the on-site TEAM clinic. Doctors McKenna Fitzgerald-Villanueva and Libby Houston, along with registered nurse Judy Mortimer, have agreed to operate the clinic, part-time at first, full-time as needed.”

  “Hey, Boss, we got a decent offer on our old colonial last night,” Mark announced. “Libby’s really looking forward to working with The TEAM. DC life has worn her down.”

  “I’m damned glad she opted to join us,” Alex remarked.

  “I can’t wait to work with her again,” Doc Fitz added. “With Judy, too. I adore those women.”

  “Judy’s just as thrilled,” Harley said.

  Beau Villanueva and his wife, Doc Fitz, already lived in the vicinity of the new TEAM HQ, as did Alex, Maverick, and Renner Graves. But for others, the move would be a major disruption to their lives. With Taylor Armstrong’s help, Mark and Libby had recently finished restoring one of Northern Virginia’s old colonials. With five kids and a practicing physician for a wife, this move wouldn’t be easy for Mark. Yet he and Libby had wholeheartedly concurred with the need for TEAM expansion when Alex broached the idea to them months ago. He’d admitted the root of the move was his need to spend more time with his family. Like everyone else’s, his two children were growing up too fast, not to mention that his father’s mental faculties deteriorated more every day. From now on, Alex intended to maintain a lighter touch on his TEAM. He wasn’t retiring, but it was time he became the family man he’d always wanted to be.

  All major directors were now selected and on board with his dream. This meeting was where the few remaining delegations would be made and hopefully, accepted. He wanted his people to be as excited as he was about their future. After a few minutes of silence, Alex divided the screen, like Beau had shown him to do earlier, and brought up another window beside the first. This one listed each new department he was creating, along with the director who would manage it.

  For the most part, he’d maintained his current chain of command. His senior agents were still Mark, Harley, and David. But he recognized his aging workforce. Married men with families had different needs, and active ops were for youngsters. He’d assigned responsibilities according to those individual strengths.

  Mark would now manage International Operations, not including East Asia. Zack would oversee those, while David managed The TEAM safe house there. Harley would handle the newly established K-9 program, and it hadn’t taken much for Maverick to agree to manage the Equine Therapy program.

  Lee Hart had agreed to stay on as full-time Physical Fitness Director. When he wasn’t on active missions, Jameson Tenney would teach parkour and Krav Maga, his specialties. Ember Dennison, when she returned from family leave, would manage the new on-site shooting ranges, all weaponry, certifications, and The TEAM armory. Alex had purposefully removed her from Mother’s oversight. Ember deserved a change.

  “What’s Technology supposed to mean?” Mother asked, an edge to her question.

  And here we g
o…

  Alex used the laser pointer to circle one of the few unfilled directorships. “It means I want you as my Director of Technology. You’re the genius. You know what it takes for us to get our jobs done.”

  She huffed, her fake fingernails clattering on the tabletop. “Sure. Yeah.”

  Clenching his jaw at her indifference, he kept going. “At the moment, it’s an empty design lab, Sasha. As Director, you’ll select your team of technicians, and you’ll determine what equipment you need. You’ll be able to—”

  “You nixed all my TEAMwear concepts.”

  “Just the nanny-cam items. They were redundant.”

  TEAMwear was an integrated collection of spec ops outerwear she’d designed. It came with networks of monitors hidden within the fabric and heads-up displays of the goggles. The original objects had been to monitor heartrates, temperatures, etcetera, much like the high-tech suits astronauts wore. But Alex refused the daily workload that much minutia had dumped in his lap every day. Bottom line, he didn’t micro-manage. Mother had yet to appreciate that concept.

  “They could’ve saved lives,” she bit out with a slight head swagger.

  “A smart man delegates responsibility, then gets out of his people’s way and lets them work. I trust my people.”

  “Them. Not me.”

  Son of a bitch, she was determined to make this all about her. So be it. Alex stared Mother down for all of two seconds before he asked, “Where’s Justice?” The man she’d said she’d married.

  That shut her up. And there, staring him in the face, was the reason for his current lack of complete trust in the woman he’d known for years. Alex wanted the old, bossy, nosey Mother back. Not this snarly reminder of subterfuge and deceit.

  Justice was one helluva fine man. He’d served Sasha and Dempsey, Sasha’s handicapped daughter, faithfully, behind the scenes for years. After Dempsey’s death, he’d whisked Mother off to some tropical Pacific island for an extended vacation. She’d needed the break. Alex thought they’d gotten married, although, in typical Mother-style, no one from The TEAM had been invited to her wedding. Until she’d returned and become increasingly harder to deal with, Alex hadn’t thought to fact-check her story. Now he knew Justice had returned from their adventure alone. He’d taken a new job at a high-end hotel in Miami, Florida, and had severed all ties with multi-millionaire Sasha Kennedy.