The Bequest

by Hope Anika

  What the fuck had been going on?

  Something. Something bigger than he’d ever realized.

  “What?” Cheyenne asked from her place beside him in the Jeep’s driver’s seat. Rafe sat in the back seat, filming the rolling hills, excited over the gradual change in the landscape.

  “This is tits,” he’d declared, more than once.

  Will didn’t respond to her. Instead he reached over and took her free hand, twining his fingers through hers.

  “What?” she asked again, watching him. She tugged against his hold but he only tightened it, and she sighed. “Someone you know?”

  “Several.” She expected him to leave. Hell, after yesterday Will realized she wanted him to leave. Because she was scared shitless—of him, of them. Although she might not run from a fight, she was more than willing to run from him.

  And that was not acceptable.

  “It reads like a Who’s Who list of federal law enforcement, counter-intelligence and military brass.” He met her gaze. “My Senior Chief is in here.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said and squeezed his hand. “Your smoking gun?”

  “I don’t know.” He continued to peruse the list, trying to imagine what the hell had happened to put that many of the country’s elite in the debt of a woman like Georgia Humboldt. “Makes no sense.”

  “Par for the course,” Cheyenne muttered.

  “Hey, can we stop at Wall Drug?” Rafe asked. “There’s, like, a bazillion signs for the place.”

  “Sure.”

  “Cool. How much farther?”

  “Hours and hours.”

  Rafe groaned, and Lucky echoed it. Cheyenne grinned at him in the mirror. “Poor baby.”

  “I’m bored.”

  “Boredom is a state of mind,” she told him.

  “Let’s play twenty questions,” he suggested.

  “Let’s not and say we did,” she replied.

  “C’mon, Cheyenne. Please?”

  “Fine.” She slid a look at Will. “I didn’t used to be such a sucker.”

  He only lifted her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it, enjoying the flush that colored her cheeks.

  “I’ll go first,” Rafe said. “Okay, Cheyenne…what’s your favorite color?”

  “I like them all,” Cheyenne said.

  Rafe looked at Will.

  “Green,” Will said.

  Cheyenne glanced at him. “Really?”

  “Why does that surprise you?”

  For a moment, he didn’t think she would respond. Then, “Because it’s a color of rebirth. And your focus seems to be endings, not beginnings.”

  Will stared at her, a hard knot of something caustic and…angry throbbing within him.

  “Mine’s orange,” Rafe said. “How about food? What’s your favorite food?”

  “Too many to choose from,” Cheyenne said.

  “Okay—just one.”

  “Raspberries.”

  “Will?”

  But he was still staring at Cheyenne, turning her response over in his head.

  Fucking asshole.

  No wonder she was fighting him. Not only was he broken, the darkness was obvious, a living, breathing thing she could see. The endgame was all he’d thought about since he’d awakened. As if he could expect her to choose a man who saw only death in his future.

  I can’t choose…

  But if he wanted to keep her, he was going to have to.

  “Will?” Rafe pressed.

  He shook his head and tried to remember the question.

  “Food,” Cheyenne prompted.

  “Pecan pie,” he said.

  She sighed. “Yum.”

  “They make pie outta nuts?” Rafe asked skeptically.

  Cheyenne only shook her head. “Guess I know what I’m baking when we get home.”

  “You can cook?” Rafe asked, his excitement palpable.

  “You can’t?”

  “PB&J,” he said.

  She laughed. “That doesn’t count. So—one more thing you get to learn how to do.”

  His excitement waned. “I have to learn?”

  “Everyone should know how to feed themselves.”

  He sighed heavily. “Damn it.”

  “You never know—you might actually like it.”

  Rafe’s look was skeptical. In spite of the turmoil Will felt, he smiled. And he wondered when smiling had stopped feeling like a betrayal. The raw, open wound he’d worn like a badge of honor still bled and throbbed and screamed for justice…but it was beginning to heal. And no matter how guilty he felt for that, he knew his men would not begrudge him her. Hell, every one of them would have liked her. And they would be pissed to know he used them as an excuse not to live.

  Perhaps that was also betrayal.

  “I got another one,” Rafe said. “What’s your favorite animal?”

  “I love all critters,” Cheyenne replied. “Well, except sewer rats. And mosquitos. And ticks. And those bastard horseflies.”

  “Will?”

  His phone chose that moment to vibrate, and he held up a finger as he answered it. “Blackheart.”

  “I found something,” Red said without preamble, his voice tense.

  Will tightened his hold on Cheyenne, and she glanced at him in question.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You’ll have to see it to believe it. Let’s just say…it widens the pool.”

  “Meaning?”

  “You’ll see. I’m sending it now.” The click of a mouse. “There. Fair warning—don’t play it while the kid’s around.”

  Which made Will curious. “Okay. Where did you find it?”

  “On Malik’s server. He’s still AWOL. But I found something else.”

  “That being?”

  “One of his wife’s half-brothers is Ahmed Asfour. According to my sources, he’s a very high-ranking member of El Hashen.”

  El Hashen….the Pakistani jihadists to whom Georgia had brokered the cache.

  “And the circle closes.”

  “Yes.”

  But there was still the ledger. Still Ethan Scott—and an entire assortment of Feds, military and politicians. Any of whom could be involved.

  “They arrested Frank James,” Red said.

  “When?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “Charges?”

  “Word is treason.”

  “They found the trail she laid.”

  “You don’t think he was involved?”

  “Maybe.” But Will didn’t think so.

  “Anything new on the location?”

  “No.”

  “And you’re still there because…?”

  Because the job wasn’t done. Because Rafe wasn’t safe.

  Because he didn’t want to leave them.

  “I found something at her place,” he said. “A book. I’m still going through it.”

  “What kind of book?”

  “A ledger of some kind.”

  “Who’s in it?”

  Fucking everyone.

  “I’m still going through it,” Will repeated.

  “Can you send me a copy?”

  Not until he figured out what the hell it meant. “When I get a chance.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Halfway between Sioux Falls and Rapid City.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll look at what you sent and call you back.”

  “Wait—I thought you were in Milwaukee.”

  “I was. I’m not anymore.”

  “Cryptic bastard. Alright, take a look and call me. It’s a doozy.”

  “Will do.”

  He hung up. Rafe stared at him in the mirror.

  “That was about her, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your fox?” Cheyenne added.

  “Yes.”

  She tilted her head and slid him a look. “Red…is this a vixen we’re talking about?”

  For a moment, Will didn’t understand. Then
he smiled, and the knot within him dissolved. “No.”

  She looked away, that lovely color painting her cheeks.

  “You still don’t know where the bombs are?” Rafe asked pensively.

  “No. But we’ll find them.”

  The boy nodded, but the worry and tension that lined his face made Will want to punch someone. Cheyenne shook her head, and he knew she felt the same way. But she didn’t address it. Instead, she looked at him and said, “Favorite animal? Let me guess…koala bear?”

  A small smile curved Rafe’s mouth.

  “Too cute,” Will said.

  “Sloth?”

  “Too slow.”

  “Hagfish?”

  Rafe giggled.

  “Have you seen the hagfish?” Will demanded. He pretended to shudder.

  “I bet it’s the Blue-footed Booby.”

  “No way,” Rafe said. “That’s not real.”

  “Cross my heart,” Cheyenne told him. She smiled knowingly at Will. “It’s the Booby, isn’t it?”

  And he laughed, unable to help himself. He lifted her hand and pressed another kiss to it. “Definitely the Booby.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The Blue-footed Booby (Sula nebouxii) is a marine bird in the family Sulidae, which includes ten species of long-winged seabirds. Blue-footed boobies belong to the genus Sula, which comprises six species of boobies. It is easily recognizable by its distinctive bright blue feet.

  Rafe eyed the photo which accompanied Wikipedia’s description of the Blue-footed Booby and thought he might like to see one someday. According to the website, they lived along the continental coasts of the eastern Pacific Ocean from California to the Galapagos Islands. He’d learned about Galapagos in school and thought he’d like to go there, too.

  He’d always figured he’d never get the chance to go anywhere, least not until he was grown. But with Cheyenne…with Cheyenne, anything was possible.

  He closed his laptop and looked out the window. Once they’d crossed the Missouri River the landscape had begun to morph, a distinct change Cheyenne called “east turning to west.” The hills grew in size, and in the distance, jagged, colorful mountains kissed the horizon. The skies above were such pure, clear blue they hurt his eyes.

  Cheyenne promised only an hour more, but he wasn’t sure he believed her. His butt was asleep, his t-shirt was covered in dog drool, and he had to pee. He’d never spent so long in a car before—it was hard. The sun beat down with relentless intensity, slowly creeping from one side of the Jeep to the other, and they kept losing internet service.

  Twenty Questions had lasted for an hour, and Rafe learned that Cheyenne was old school when it came to pretty much everything, and that she didn’t like to answer questions. Will was more dialed-in and easy going and, oddly enough, had way more in common with Rafe than he would have guessed. That Cheyenne could cook—even if she made him learn—was the best news ever.

  To Letitia, “cooking” had consisted of spaghetti O’s and chicken ramen.

  Rafe didn’t miss her.

  In fact, even though it had only been a few days, she felt far away, as though that part of his life had already begun to fade. Considering how hard it had been to live through, that seemed wrong somehow, like he shouldn’t forget that easily—because things could change in a heartbeat. And often did.

  There were some things you should remember. Even if they were ugly—because they were ugly.

  Letitia was one of them.

  Rafe was worried about Ruby; he really hoped she was okay. He didn’t know if she would ever get to see the movie he was making, but he hoped so. He wanted her to know that, even though he wasn’t there anymore, she wasn’t alone, and he wouldn’t forget about her. That was important. They were still friends, no matter how far away he was.

  And it was far. They weren’t even in Wyoming yet, and it felt like they’d been driving forever. The sky was huge, and he could see for miles. The sun seemed bigger, brighter, and the further west they got, the fewer cars they saw. It amazed him that here was all this space and yet…no people.

  Why cram so many into one place and have none in others? It didn’t make any sense to him. But he liked it.

  South Dakota was different. Halfway through the state, in the middle of a random field, there’d been a skeleton made of steel leading a giant dinosaur on a leash. Damnedest thing Rafe ever saw—luckily, he’d gotten footage of it—and it made him wonder how many other random, wonderful things there were to see in the world. More than he could count, probably.

  The idea that he might actually get to see some of them….it was more than he’d ever dared hope for.

  Cheyenne was singing Hotel California off-key. Will watched her, smiling a little, and Rafe wondered if what he saw between them would turn into something. The thought that Cheyenne and Will might be part of his life going forward was too good to be true, and he knew better than to wish for something that felt too good. That they liked each other was obvious, but adults were weird, driven by things he didn’t understand and couldn’t predict.

  Who knew why they did anything?

  Still, Rafe hoped Will would stick around. There was a hell of a lot he could learn from Will. Men had been scarce in his life—especially decent ones—and Rafe really wanted to be a good one…that was important to him.

  Rafe was not his mother—or his father.

  He was going to be better.

  Better than both of them combined.

  Anyone who would kill a bunch of SEALs was someone he didn’t want to know—let alone be related to. And he wished he could stop thinking about those bombs. Sometimes he dreamt of them, of his ma standing on a dark street with the bombs all around her, and he couldn’t get to them or to her before they started to go off, one by one, and when he awoke he was wet with sweat, and he could still hear them, tick-tick-tick, in his head. Fear would swell like a giant bubble in his chest, panic would crawl into his throat, and his heart would beat so hard he could taste it. He hated how helpless, how responsible, he felt. As if he should have been able to do something—anything—to stop her.

  But even in his dreams, he was powerless. Because, really, what could he have done? He was just a kid. Even if he had known, he couldn’t have stopped her.

  She wouldn’t have let him.

  In his lap, Lucky twitched and whimpered in her sleep. He stroked a hand down her hindquarter, and she calmed.

  “Rest stop?” Will asked. He was driving. “Next one is—”

  “Hell, yeah,” Cheyenne said, and Rafe breathed a sigh of relief.

  They took the exit with the bright blue sign and pulled into the front lot, parking next to a green pickup truck. Back behind the rest stop, a colorful row of tractor trailers sat parked, their chrome gleaming with blinding brightness in the sun. A woman was walking her Chihuahua on the grass, and a man stood studying the map of South Dakota that hung on the outside wall, protected from the weather by a pane of scratched Plexiglas.

  Rafe got out, his legs protesting as he stretched them. Lucky whined at him but Will reached in and grabbed her, clipping on her leash.

  “I’m good,” he told Rafe. “I’ll walk her.”

  Lucky wagged her tail and licked his chin.

  “C’mon.” Cheyenne shut the Jeep’s passenger side door and slid her arm around Rafe’s shoulders. “Here’s to hoping this one smells better.”

  They used the facilities, and when they came out, the man and woman and green pickup were gone. Down at the end of the parking lot, an aging white Camaro sat at an odd angle, and a man and a woman stood beside it, arguing. Rafe glanced at them and then looked toward Will, who stood in the grass, Lucky sniffing around his feet.

  Will was watching the couple.

  “You want to sit up front for the last leg?” Cheyenne asked him, but she, too, had eyes on the man and woman.

  The man was big and hairy and wore a stained yellow t-shirt and jeans. The woman wore a short denim skirt and a red and white halter-t
op. She was skinny as a rail…and young. Really young. Her hair was dark, almost black, long and thin, and dark bruises dotted each of her arms like ugly tattoos. Her legs, too, were bruised, and when the wind lifted her hair, Rafe could see raised red marks on her back. The man had one beefy hand wrapped around her forearm, and the other was fisted at his side. Both of his arms were covered in sleeve tats.

  “Sure,” Rafe said, but he didn’t move to climb into the Jeep, didn’t look away. In his belly, unease hardened into a thick knot. The man’s voice carried toward them, low, angry, and the woman—no, she was a girl—sounded like she was crying.

  “Get in the fucking car,” the man snarled, and with his free hand, he wrenched open the passenger door of the Camaro. The girl shook her head and backed away, even though there was no way she was breaking his grip, he was way too big—

  “Here.” Will suddenly stood there, holding out Lucky’s leash. Rafe took it and reached down to lift the pup into his arms; she was warm and solid and felt good pressed against him.

  “Call 911,” Will told Cheyenne.

  “Why?”

  “Because that dickhead is going to need an ambulance.”

  Then he turned and walked toward the couple, his hands curled loosely at his sides, his stride aggressive. Rafe watched with bated breath, suddenly seeing the warrior in Will so clearly his heart lurched. Confident and fearless and bold; not at all worried about losing.

  He’s going to cream that guy.

  “Kick his stinking ass,” Cheyenne said softly, watching Will as she pulled her phone from her back pocket.

  “Don’t ever do this,” she added to Rafe, dialing.

  He snorted.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I know.”

  Will didn’t try to talk the guy down. He didn’t say anything at all. He just walked right up to them and got into the guy’s face, breaking the man’s hold on the girl by sheer force of presence. Suddenly free, the girl stumbled back.

  “I’m at the rest area just outside of Wasta, mile marker 98,” Cheyenne said into her phone. “There’s a man here trying to force a young woman into his car.”

  The man roared, loud, enraged, and the sound made Rafe flinch. Next to him, Cheyenne went very still, watching Will, the man, the woman.

  “Who the fuck—” the man began, but Will only stepped toe-to-toe with him and said something they couldn’t hear. The look on Will’s face—mean and hard and unforgiving—made goose bumps wash across Rafe’s skin. He really wished he could hear what was being said. Will was broad and lean where the man was stout and thick, but they were the same height, almost nose-to-nose as the girl backed slowly away.