Hidden Truth

by Danica Winters

  In the quiet of the industrial warehouse, the buzz of the fluorescent lights sounded like a swarm of bees just waiting to descend.

  Between the FBI and a swarm of bees, under normal circumstances, he would take bees.

  He hated that this was where they were now—playing a game of corrupt politics and misguided leadership.

  Though it appeared he was standing alone in the center of the industrial building, he could feel people watching him. No doubt, by now they likely had agents set up around the building monitoring him with some hidden tech. They likely had microphones and video cameras installed in the building as soon as they heard of their plan—if they were smart, they had every inch of this place streaming live at some central command center.

  His phone pinged. It was time. Everything was in place.

  The metal industrial garage door clicked as someone slid it open. In front of him was Gus, the man they had hired to help flush out Mike. Gus had been working for them over the last decade, always available at a moment’s notice. They paid him well, but this time he wasn’t sure if they were paying the man enough to deal with what was about to happen.

  This time, Gus had brought three men and a woman with him. Gus was wearing a tailored linen suit, and his gray hair was slicked back with pomade. He reminded Trevor of a Miami drug lord. The men and women standing guard around Gus all wore black, and each had a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses perched on their head—and they looked terribly out of place in Seattle’s underbelly.

  He gave the man a stiff nod. “Did Ahmal send you?”

  “Does Ahmal send just anyone?” Gus said, looking at him like he was a stranger he didn’t trust.

  He played his role well.

  “You have what I asked for?” Gus asked, motioning toward the big rig that was parked by the far wall of the warehouse.

  “You have our money?” Trevor asked, lowering the assault rifle in his hand and leaning on it as if it were nothing more than a walking stick.

  Gus looked toward the gun at Trevor’s side. “Is that one of our M16s?”

  Trevor took a step forward, moving to hand the man the gun. The woman stepped between them, as though she was really there to guard the man his family had planted.

  Perfect.

  “Have your woman stand down,” he said, glaring at her.

  “Marie,” Gus said, sounding tired.

  The woman stepped back, but her hand had moved to the gun strapped to her side.

  Hopefully, Gus had told her that this mission was nothing more than a farce. He didn’t want to have to worry about drawing any unnecessary friendly fire—he had enough to worry about when it came to the FBI and what they did or didn’t know. One wrong move, one misplaced statement, and all hell could rain down.

  He handed Gus the gun, keeping one eye on the woman to make sure she didn’t make a mistake. Gus was smart, but just like them, he probably wanted to make this seem as real as possible—which may have meant that he had left his team in the dark.

  “There are a thousand more of these inside that truck.” He motioned behind him. “Did you wire us the money?”

  “I only work in cash. I find it comforting,” Gus said, motioning for one of his guards.

  As the guard stepped forward, Trevor noticed the black briefcase in his hand. The briefcase was leather and adorned with brass, perfectly antiquated. It was almost comical, and far from the kind of thing most people would’ve expected, but Trevor had seen a lot of eccentricity in his travels.

  In fact, one of the warlords they had been investigating in Africa brought a capuchin monkey to all their arms deals. In the end, STEALTH had planted a recording device in the monkey’s collar. Because of a pet monkey, a dangerous man had been brought to justice and found guilty of war crimes.

  “Half a million?” Trevor asked, reaching in his pocket and taking out the keys to the truck.

  “In unmarked bills,” Gus said. “Show us the guns.”

  Trevor walked toward the truck. Each step felt like it was in slow motion, as though he were walking toward his execution.

  If this was how he went down... No, he couldn’t give it any thought.

  Trish, and the last look on her face—the look of terror, pain and the realization that death was upon her—came to the front of his mind and a wave of nausea threatened to take him to his knees. Somehow he kept walking.

  The end of the truck was open, exposing the crates. Stepping up, Gus followed him and he reached inside the open crate nearest them. The guns had been chipped, even though this wasn’t that kind of deal. Everything reminded him of the last time. He’d promised himself he would never be in this kind of situation again, and as he moved toward the crate his body stopped. It was as though he was glued to the floor of the truck, and no matter how badly he wanted to step forward and look inside that crate, his body wouldn’t allow it.

  “You like?” Trevor asked, trying to ignore the way his body defied him.

  “They are all identical?” Gus asked.

  Trevor nodded. They stepped out of the truck and Gus’s men closed the back end.

  The guard handed Gus the briefcase.

  “Do we have a deal?” Trevor asked.

  Gus handed him the briefcase and Trevor handed him the keys to the big rig. Every door in the warehouse flew open. There was the percussion of a flash bang, and Trevor hit the ground.

  “Get down on the ground!” a man ordered. “Hands above your head!”

  The FBI agents rushed into the building, running through the smoke of the blast. Trevor watched as Mike ran toward him, his gun raised. Sabrina was nowhere in sight.

  Was she in danger? He had been assured by his people at the CIA that they had spoken to the folks at the Bureau and cleared everything up. But had there been more mistakes? Had the FBI screwed up again? Or had he been set up?

  Mike glanced around, making sure that he was covered by the smoke and no one was close as he stopped beside Trevor. “Stand up, jackass,” he ordered.

  Trevor moved to his feet as he reached for his gun.

  “Oh, please do... I’ve been looking forward to killing you.” Mike’s finger tightened on the trigger of the gun that was pointed straight at Trevor’s chest.

  “Mike, stop! Don’t shoot!” he yelled, hoping that he could alert the FBI agents around him before this thing went all kinds of sideways and they ended up in a total firefight.

  A shot rang out, rising above the melee of sounds around them of men and women shouting. Everything stopped.

  Instinctively, Trevor pulled his gun as he did a mental check of his body. Nothing hurt, but adrenaline had a funny way of masking pain and he couldn’t risk looking down to check himself for bullet holes.

  Sabrina and another female agent stepped through the smoke behind Mike, each with their weapon raised. Trevor dropped his weapon and lifted his hands. Mike lowered his arms and there was a look of shock on his face.

  “What in the hell?” Mike said, turning toward the women.

  Blood seeped from his back, glossy and wet against the black fabric of his suit jacket.

  “Get on the ground!” the other agent with Sabrina ordered.

  “But—” Mike started.

  “I said, get on the ground!” the woman repeated.

  Instead of following orders, Mike raised the gun, pointing it straight at Sabrina. As he moved, Trevor lunged toward the man. He couldn’t hurt her. Not Sabrina. Not this time.

  There was the crunching sound of bones breaking as Mike’s body hit the ground beneath him.

  Grabbing the gun in Mike’s hand, he flipped it out of his grip and threw it to the side.

  He pulled the man’s arms behind his bleeding back. “Mike Couer, you are under arrest for the murder of Owen and Earl Cussler, tampering with evidence, corruption, and impeding a federal investigation. Anything you say can
and will be used against you in a court of law.”

  The agent beside Sabrina stepped beside them and Mirandized him.

  Watching Sabrina stand over Mike with her gun drawn was a thing of beauty. This time, evil didn’t win.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The private jet was full of Trevor’s family, friends and a few of the agents from the case; yet as Sabrina sat there beside Trevor, it was as if they were all alone. This wasn’t how she had expected things to go. Nothing could have prepared her for the things that Rowena had told her on their way to Seattle. She had described her plan to take down of one of the most corrupt officials in the Pacific Northwest, and explained how Sabrina could help.

  Mike had been transported to Seattle’s Harborview Medical Center and would remain under surveillance until he was completely out of the woods from his gunshot wound. Admittedly, it had felt good to shoot the man who had threatened to take Trevor down.

  She reached over and took Trevor’s hand.

  He looked at her. “You okay?”

  Though it had only been a day, it felt as though months had passed, thanks to all the statements she’d been required to give and all the legal paperwork that needed to be completed. Rowena had been diligent in making sure that everything was filed and completed in a way that would leave Sabrina free and clear and able to jump right back into her position at the FBI when she was ready.

  For the time being, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. She definitely needed a break from things to assess her future.

  “Babe? Do you need anything?” Trevor asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

  “Oh no, I’m okay.” Her voice sounded tired. She wasn’t sure he was ready to give her what she needed now.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he said, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

  Undoubtedly, the Martins would want to leave Montana now that their quiet retirement had been upended...a situation that she herself had a role in creating. If only she had seen Mike for the man he had truly been when they were together.

  As it turned out, their relationship had not only been terrible, it had been a sham from the very beginning. Mike had been using her to learn about his enemies all while sending her into this and other investigations half-cocked with spotty information—in the end, no doubt hoping to humiliate her. If only she’d realized what he was doing, smearing her name and thereby delegitimizing anything she might say about him or his dealings. She felt so used...and so angry.

  But Mike would pay for his full-blown assault on her character. And she would happily take the stand should she need to.

  Trevor’s phone buzzed. Opening up his email, he smiled.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Ballistics came in on your gun and Mike’s.” He moved the screen so she could see the message. “The slug they pulled from Earl was fired from Mike’s gun...not the one they found at the shack, or yours.”

  Rowena leaned forward from the seat behind them and tapped her on the shoulder. “It looks like we just got a little more good news.”

  “What do you mean?” Trevor asked.

  “In addition to your ballistics, the Evidence Response Team found the hunting cabin Sabrina told me you had been looking for.” Rowena showed her a photo on her phone of a graying log cabin almost completely shrouded within a thicket of barberry. “About five hundred yards from the cabin, the ERT located a shallow mass grave. It appears to contain the remains of three men—one older, who we believe may have been the father—and two women. Right now, we can’t confirm or deny their identities, but it appears that they are the rest of the Cusslers. My team is looking for the other family that was reportedly in the area, but so far they haven’t found anything to indicate their whereabouts.”

  “Do you know what happened to the Cusslers? How they died?” Sabrina asked.

  “It looks like it was execution style—but one had taken a shot to the kidney shortly before the time of death. They are guessing the guy was shot in the back—probably running. There was some level of healing, which means he may have been held for a day or two before he was executed.” Rowena’s lips puckered.

  “How long had they been dead?” Sabrina asked, thinking back to the blood she had first found behind the shanty.

  “They’d been down for a few days to a week at least.”

  “They are going to pull DNA and confirm identities as well as run any lead they recover through ballistics,” Rowena continued. “I’d bet dollars to doughnuts that they were fired from Agent Couer’s gun.”

  “How is the man I shot... Agent Heath?” Sabrina asked.

  “It looks like he took a hit up there on that mountain, as Mike said. And while Agent Heath may have been acting on Agent Couer’s orders, he also may have had a role in setting you up. We believe it was their plan to pick a time and place when there were no other witnesses—but then things went haywire.”

  “We got lucky.”

  “Not entirely. We have reason to believe he retrieved the gun from the Cussler shack and planted it in your things at your house at the Martins’. Needless to say, whether or not you were the one who pulled the trigger, it was a job well done.” Rowena winked at her. “He is going to be thoroughly questioned, but I have a feeling he, too, will be spending quite a while in prison.”

  Sabrina smiled. She’d had a soft spot for Agent Heath, but if he had anything to do with trying to take her down, she’d be fine never hearing the man’s name again. “Rowena, thanks for everything. I would have gone down for this if you hadn’t started digging. I appreciate it.”

  The woman gave a humble nod. “It’s my job. And if someone tried to do this kind of thing to me, I would expect my fellow agents to see it to the end as well. Besides, we women of the Bureau have to stick together.”

  She wasn’t kidding.

  Rowena started to sit back in her seat but stopped. “Oh, and hey, I got word that there is going to be an open seat at the Missoula office...you wouldn’t be interested in being the special agent in charge, would you?” Rowena said, cracking an elusive smile.

  Trevor looked over at her and gave her a proud, approving grin.

  What she really wanted to do was stay with him. On the other hand, her job was her life. Though her office would only be a short drive away, long hours and the stress that came with her job would inevitably drive a wedge between them. She was cut from the FBI cloth, and no matter what happened in her life, she didn’t want to lose who she was.

  “I’d love to take the job...you know, if it were to come my way,” she said.

  Rowena winked and sat back, taking her phone out and clicking on email. “I’ll see what I can do for you.”

  Sabrina turned to Trevor.

  “Way to go,” Trevor said, but some of the light in his eyes had seemed to fade as he too must have realized what her job would do to their relationship.

  “Thank you,” she said, lowering her head so she could whisper to him alone. “But the truth is... I don’t know if it’s going to work.”

  “Why not?” He frowned.

  She had always been told that a woman should never say I love you first, but she’d never been very good at being told what to do.

  “Trevor, here’s the deal... I love you. I know that what we had...it was probably just a forced proximity thing that was kind of convenient, but—”

  “Our relationship was not convenient,” he said, interrupting her. “I’m not the kind of guy who takes a woman to bed just for the hell of it.”

  “Oh yeah?” she asked, giving him a playful look. “Then you do it just for the jollies?”

  He smirked. “No. I took you to bed because the second I saw you standing outside the shack that first day, I knew you were something—someone—special.” He lifted their entwined hands and gave her fingers a soft kiss. “I loved you before we even met... I know it sounds c
razy, but it was like we were made for each other...as if cosmic forces brought us together. I mean, think of the odds that were stacked against us ever even meeting, and then there we were at the same time and the same place, fighting the same side of a battle that we didn’t even know we were fighting.” His face flushed. “I sound ridiculous.”

  “No, you’re cute when you’re flustered,” she said, happiness racing through her. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  “Hey now,” he said with a laugh. “If you’re going to tease me, I don’t have to keep going.”

  “No,” she said, motioning for him to continue. “I like seeing you act the way I feel.”

  “Wait...” he started. “You didn’t forget we had a bet riding on all this, did you? Turns out I was completely right about you being the target.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, staring at him as they whisked through the clouds. The heat in her cheeks rose as she remembered the stakes. “Who do you think you are, Mr. Martin? Do you think you can really use a bet to get me back into bed?”

  “First, I’m the man who is going to love you for the rest of our lives. And second, I would never make you do anything you didn’t want to do.”

  “Well, we did strike a deal,” she teased, giving him an impish look.

  “That’s what I like to hear. I can’t wait to get home,” he said, laughing. “By the way, what was the favor you were going to ask for if you won?”

  When they made the bet, she hadn’t had a clue. Everything between them had been so distorted that she hadn’t even really believed that they would get to the bottom of their investigation in time for her to save her job, let alone see who won the bet. Yet here and now, she knew exactly what she should have wished for.

  “Are you sure you want to hear it?”

  Trevor nodded.

  “If I’d won, I’d have asked you to marry me.” She gazed into his eyes, half expecting him to choke and shirk away, but instead he leaned in closer so their foreheads touched. “You’re right, it’s like we are meant to be together. When I look at you, I see a father to my children, a husband, a friend. When we are close all I want to do is move even closer. And when I was arrested, all I wanted was to know that you were safe and taken care of.” She paused. “I know my asking you isn’t conventional, but I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Will you?”