Plain Sight

by Katherine Rhodes

  “Doc, it’s Vaughn Willard.”

  There was a pause. “Aren’t you supposed to be laying low?”

  “News travels fast when you’re not supposed to know where I am,” I said. “Look, I’m sorry for calling you so early but—”

  “You never would if it wasn’t pressing. I won’t tell anyone we’ve spoken. What’s going on?”

  “Feelings.”

  Billings chuckled. “I assumed. They’re waking up?”

  “Yeah, I guess you could say that. Them and…”

  “Ah, your libido woke up.”

  “At the worst possible time, and now I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  “Tell me what happened?”

  I walked through everything that had happened last night, the kiss, the shower, and the way I was confused and not confused about what I was supposed to be feeling about Helen or Bridget.

  “However you’re feeling is right,” he answered. “If you feel guilty about Helen the first few times you have a sexual encounter with a new woman, that’s fine. That’s normal and healthy. It’s when you have those feelings holding you back from the experience that it’s a problem. If you keep trying to find blame and guilt, you’re not heading in the right direction. And you have to make sure the person you are with understands that as well. Does she?”

  “She knows,” I answered.

  “Ah, there’s something more going on here. What?”

  The door opened, and I watched Bridget walk into the room. I stood and walked into the bathroom, closing the door.

  “She left the room this morning without a word. I knew she’d be back, but she left.”

  “But she came back.”

  “She didn’t tell me she was leaving. After directing me not to leave the room, and making sure that we could be in contact, she left.”

  “But she came back.”

  “Fuck man, why didn’t she say something?”

  It was quiet a moment. “You’re with Killian’s sister, Bridget, aren’t you?”

  “How the hell—”

  Billings sliced into my statement. “Killian is married to one of my best friends. He’s been ranting and raving for past twelve hours that his sister lied to him. Cece finally told me what was going on with him and Bridget. Bridget is a former agent, and since you’d been working with her…”

  “You can’t—”

  “I’m not telling anyone, Vaughn. Doctor-patient confidentiality. Also, that would be really stupid since a bunch of bad guys want you dead back here.”

  I let out a sigh. “Yes. I’m with Bridget.”

  “She probably left to do something you shouldn’t be involved in. She’s a trained agent, Vaughn. She’s going to have to do things you may not want to know about to keep you safe.”

  “Like what?”

  “Shoot people, Vaughn. Kill them. And if she knows about how Helen died, don’t you think she’s trying to protect you a bit from something like that? Or the illegal activity she might need to engage in to keep you off the radar? That’s what got you into this, and now she’s using it to get you out. And she’s trying to protect you in every way possible.”

  I paused. “She could have said she was leaving.”

  “I agree, but have you really communicated with her about that? She just knows she has to keep you safe and she’s going about it the only way she knows how.”

  Letting out a breath, I ran my hand through my hair. “So, in other words, talk to her.”

  “Yes. And for God’s sake you’re in a crazy, crazy position right now. You are going to fight, about everything. If you’re really interested in her, you have to realize it’s the situation and not the relationship.”

  I swallowed. “So, I’m on the right track here.”

  It was easy to hear Billings’ smile. “You are on the right track, Vaughn. Keep her safe too, or Killian will have your balls on a chafing tray with onions and a nice brie.”

  Bridget looked like she was ready to bark at me, but I just held onto her wrist.

  “The plates are why I was mad at you this morning.” I tossed my chin at them. “I was angry you left without a word. I knew you were coming back, but that you didn’t say a thing to me made me really fucking mad. It’s all moot now, but…”

  She snapped her eyes over to mine. “You talked to the therapist, eh?”

  “Don’t mock it, Bridget. I’ve been fighting every day to find normal, and Billings helps. He talked me off the edge today. Because I didn’t realize what you were doing. Or why you were doing it.”

  “To keep your ass alive?”

  “Well, yes.”

  She handed me the papers for the plate and grabbed a screwdriver, then slammed the back gate. “I was doing something illegal with someone who was probably either not above the board or was balancing on it. I didn’t want to drag you down with me. I still don’t. But I lost control today, because I was sure these guys weren’t professionals. I found out they are. Big time.”

  She squatted down to loosen the plate and pull it off, quickly putting the new one on. She took the old plate and Frisbee’d it out into the woods.

  “Hopefully, it’ll take months before anyone goes looking back there. I have to remind Nolan to clear his tracks.”

  I stared out to where the plate had disappeared. “You do a lot of illegal stuff?”

  “This is the first shit I’ve done since I’ve been back to the States. I don’t know what my license allows me to do and I don’t think I can get into the CIA or FBI because Assnuggets McJerkface black flagged me internationally. So let’s just hope this works like the clergy and I’m never officially not an agent, even if I’m not currently employed.”

  “Well, if that’s not ominous or confusing.”

  She chuckled walked to the front of the SUV. “Look, I’m sorry I left this morning. You and Dylan needed the sleep and I was back in no time.”

  “Just tell me next time, okay?”

  She nodded. “Get in. We have a long, long drive ahead. We have got to get out of the area, and the best direction to head is Chicago.”

  I walked around the front of the SUV. “Do you know anyone there? Like personally or professionally?”

  “I’m always open to making new friends.”

  Climbing in and closing the door, I turned to look at her in the driver’s seat. “I have a friend there. In West Chicago. He’s a college friend who went into private finance.”

  Starting the engine, Bridget backed us out of the dirt track and turned us to head up the street, away from the way we came. “He open to hosting a few fugitives from Pittsburgh?”

  “I’ll find out at the next rest stop.”

  Chicago was nine miserable hours through the flat hell of western Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois. It was nearly seven at night before we rolled up to the address that Miles had given me. I really also hoped we weren’t going to endanger him.

  “Did you explain the situation to him?” Bridge asked, for like hundredth time.

  “As best I could,” I said. “He didn’t have a single problem with it.”

  She nodded and looked back at Dylan, who had fallen asleep sometime after dinner in Gary. “Well, let’s do this. We can still get a hotel if they kick us out.”

  I agreed and we both climbed out of the vehicle. Unbuckling my son, I pulled him out and shifted him onto my shoulder. I still didn’t like the feel of the gun on my hip, but I knew it was better there, having to explain it to Dylan than not have it when I needed it. Bridget left the go-bag in the back of the truck, and just took her purse. We had stopped along the way to grab her some ammunition, because she was missing several bullets out of the clip, and she didn’t like not having full clips.

  I couldn’t believe I was thinking about ammunition and clips. It had been a very long time since I had thought about those. As soon as my term was up in the army, I was gone. What a mistake that had been. The guns, the orders, the humiliation, the physical torment. They liked me, asked me to re-up a f
ew times, but I was just fucking done. No way. College was the life for me.

  And now here I was with one of those awful guns strapped to my hip.

  My son sighed in his sleep. I took a deep breath.

  Pressing the doorbell, I really hoped it was early enough not to wake anyone in Miles’ house. I knew they had kid’s, but I didn’t remember how old.

  Bridget looked completely innocent standing there. Like she wasn’t carrying 300 rounds for the gun she had strapped under her jacket. She shifted the purse and waited just behind me and to the left, so she could see everything that was going on.

  Well, that wasn’t so innocent.

  The door opened and Miles stood there, smiling.

  “Holy crap, Vaughn Willard! I was half expecting this to be a prank.” Stepping out of the way, he motioned us into the house. “Come on, come in. We set up the couch in the basement for your son and the guest room is right next door.”

  The house was bright and welcoming. It was a newer house, with a gorgeous staircase and open second floor landing. There was a den on the right and dining room on the left, and straight back there was a massive two story family room. I quickly introduced Bridget, and followed Miles toward the kitchen.

  “Would you like anything to drink?” Miles smiled at us. “I mean, I can see that someone would probably just rather go to bed...”

  “Let me take him down to the bed,” I answered, “I’ll come right back up and we can have a beer and shoot some shit.”

  “And tell me more about this situation,” Miles said, pointedly.

  “Yeah, sure.” I nodded.

  He pulled the door to the basement open and ushered me down. When I reached the bottom, there was a woman just tucking in the last of the sheets on the pull-out bed, and grinned when she saw me.

  “Hello, Vaughn.” Her voice was welcoming. “I’m Miles’ wife, Farida. I’m glad we could give you a place to stay overnight. Will you be in Chicago long?”

  I coughed and managed to lay my son on the sheets. “We’re not sure yet. That depends on a lot of things. Are you coming upstairs? Because I can explain everything all at once up there.”

  “Oh, yes, of course!” She helped me pull Dylan’s socks and shoes off, and slid him under the sheets. I really hoped he slept through the night, or at least until I was in the bed next to him.

  I walked up the stairs ahead of her.

  “Are you hungry? We can order some pizza.”

  “Oh, no. We ate a few hours ago.” I held the door for her as we left the basement.

  She froze on the top step. “Holy shit.”

  Bridget whipped around. “Holy shit.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Bridget

  I could not believe my goddamn eyes. Even though the woman was right in front of me, I couldn’t believe it.

  “Farida?” I managed to gasp.

  “Bridget?” she managed to choke out.

  We slammed into each other in the fiercest hug I had ever been a part of. I was pretty sure one of us was going to crack the other’s ribs.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded. “How do you know Miles?”

  Vaughn raised his hand. “I know Miles.”

  “I worked for Vaughn,” I answered. “How did you get here?”

  “It’s a long strange journey.”

  “We have time.” She laughed. “Not like last time.”

  Miles looked over at Vaughn. “Well, apparently I was concerned for nothing.”

  “What?” Vaughn asked.

  Farida pointed up the stairs with a shushing motion. “Bring some drinks, Miles, we’ll go hang out in the big den for a while and chat.”

  I knew exactly what was going on. Dylan was in the basement, and her kids were upstairs. What we were going to talk about had no place in children’s hearing. Vaughn and I followed her to walk out to the semi-attached garage and we headed up the stairs that were just inside the door.

  The big den was clearly off limits to the kids, by the gates at the bottom of the stairs and the deadbolted door at the top. Farida pulled out a key and unlocked the deadbolt, then swept her finger over a bit of wood there. The door beeped and swung open.

  The room had a cozy ambiance, and Farida flipped on the gas fireplace to warm it up. There were big couches and a desk in the far corner, as well as a bathroom. There were a few cabinets along the sides, and she motioned us over to the area in front of the fireplace.

  “Miles will be right up. He’s just setting the alarm and the cameras for the kids.” She turned a computer screen around to face us and there were camera feeds of the four kids in the house—three of hers, one of Dylan. “This room is soundproof, and I sweep it on the regular for bugs.”

  Vaughn gave me the “what the fuck” look and I chuckled. “You’ll find out.”

  Miles walked up the stairs a moment later with a case of beer and put it next to the door so he could lock it. He put a beer in front of each of us and put the rest in a different room—one I suspected was kitchen.

  “Well, this is a very homey bugout bunker,” I said.

  “Isn’t it?” Farida said. “We were going to use the basement but that’s so cliché.”

  “All the usual?”

  “Of course.” She smiled, and leaned forward. “But, Bridge, what are you doing here? Are you on assignment?”

  I shook my head slowly. “Dismissed.”

  “What?” Farida hissed, the shock clear on her face. “You? Their prized Irish pony? What the hell happened?”

  “Harding happened.”

  Farida glanced at Miles, who shook his head. “I can believe it. Harding isn’t a rule breaker. He wants what he wants, and damn the intelligence.”

  “What did you do?” Farida asked.

  “Wittesburg.”

  Both of their mouths dropped open, and Miles went on alone. “You were the blacked agent!”

  “I went solo and took him down.”

  Miles put his hand up. “High five!”

  I slapped it, feeling the best I had about the whole thing in months.

  “We all knew he couldn’t go down with two agents on him. He was too smart and it was too obvious.” Miles nodded. “So the drive is gone for good?”

  Leaning back I stretched an arm across the back of the loveseat I was on with Vaughn. “Psht, no. I got that too.”

  “Where?” Miles traded a look with Farida.

  “Up his ass. Literally, up his ass,” I answered. “He kept it under lock and key unless he had to transport it. Then he stuck it up his butt so it wouldn’t be found anywhere. That’s why no one was ever able to stop and search and find it.”

  Farida flipped her finger in the air, confused. “So hold on here. You not only got Wittesburg, but you got the drive literally from his ass and brought it back and the fucker still fired you?”

  “That’s as concise as it gets.”

  Farida shook her head. “Fucked up.”

  “Still, fab job!” Miles popped his beer and took a drink. “So, I’m assuming that since Vaughn is with you, this really is a sort of bad thing going on.”

  “Sort of yes,” I answered. “Vaughn, could you…”

  “Are we for real right now?” he whispered, and was staring at Miles and Farida. “You’re a finance consultant…”

  “I am. Most of the time,” Miles said. “But I met Farida in Jordan five years ago, and I wound up helping her extract her sister and two other women from Saudi Arabia.” He grinned. “She was pregnant by the time we got back to the U.S. with them, and we liked helping people escape terrible situations. When she got dismissed from the CIA for flunking a physical at six months pregnant, we decided to go ahead and do the extractions on our own once in a while. Once in a while has become a lot more often than that—and my day job as a financial consultant works in our favor. A lot. And often.”

  Farida nodded. “When Miles told me one of his old friends was having some personal problem and wanted to just crash for the ni
ght, we figured he was just having a bad marriage day.”

  She looked at me. “I didn’t expect one of my former parallels to show up with you. Which does mean this is bigger. Tell us what’s going on?”

  Vaughn blinked a few times and finally started to tell the whole story. From the very beginning where he found the anomalies in the finances, to running for the SUV this morning. I added in the mess in the parking lot earlier that day.

  Miles nodded. “How many did you take down?”

  “Two,” I said. “I tried not to.”

  “We always try not to,” Farida said. “You did what you could. We’ll run some interference for you—”

  “We have a guy helping in Pittsburgh.”

  “Give me his name, and we’ll coordinate,” Miles said.

  “You have people?” I asked.

  They glanced at each other, and Miles nodded. “We have a loose association of people. Since most of what we do skirts the law, we like to keep a low profile, and only a few associates. We’ll get them in and do a cleanup, posthaste.”

  Vaughn raised his hand. “What the hell is going on here?”

  I looked at him. “Intelligence.”

  “I thought you were a spy.”

  Farida and I chorused, “Agent.”

  Vaughn

  I just stared at Bridget, speechless. It took me a moment to really put together what I was thinking.

  “You’re fucking kidding me with this right now. I am terrified out of my goddamn mind, and you’re joking around. My son is asleep in the basement and I’m scared to death for him. I don’t understand what the fuck is going on. I’m about ten seconds from grabbing him and getting the hell away from all of you.”

  Miles leaned forward and folded his hands, his thumbs dancing on each other. “Vaughn. You’ve wound up in the best possible place you could right now, for what’s going on.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  He waved his hand. “We’re going to figure this out. If we’re being flippant, it’s because we’ve seen so much shit go down around us. Friends, family, women, children, innocents, all hurt, injured, abused, and killed. If we aren’t flippant, we wind up in weeping, rocking balls of utter insanity in the nearest corner.”