Cowboy, Undercover

by Vicki Tharp

  “I trust you can manage.”

  There’s that word again. “You trying to get us killed?”

  Instead of answering her question he said, “You leave from Turner field at nine-thirty.”

  Tessa glanced at the clock on the wall. “That’s less than an hour from now.”

  Bradley crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn’t going to give an inch. Not that she’d expected him to. “I suggest you hurry, then.”

  At Bradley’s dismissal, Gil stepped aside, his hand outstretched toward the door. “After you, ma’am.”

  Tessa had started to turn, when Bradley said, “One more thing, Tessa.” She stopped. Then to Gil he said, “If you’ll wait in the hall.”

  “Sir.” Gil flashed her a quick look then left them alone.

  Bradley crowded her personal space. “I’ll be monitoring your phone’s GPS. You make a detour, I’m going to know about it.”

  Then he leaned in, his lips near her ear. His breath was hot on her skin, and she caught a whiff of the deep undertones of his cologne which in the past she’d always described as earthy, but now there was a pungency that she hadn’t noticed before as if the scent wasn’t effective enough to cover the stench of a rotten soul. “Don’t let me down. Or your son.”

  With only minutes to spare, Tessa finished the preflight checklist and started the engine. Gil buckled his seat belt. It was the three-point kind, like in a car. It didn’t feel like enough protection. He covered his ears with a headset. He adjusted the mic boom in front of his mouth. “This thing on?”

  “Roger,” Tessa said from the pilot’s seat to his right. Now probably wasn’t the time to tell her how hot he found her single-minded focus.

  He glanced over at her again, at the four, fingertip-sized bruises on the side of her neck. The room had been too dark for him to notice them last night. Cold fury spit and sparked. This he couldn’t keep to himself.

  Without looking over at him, Tessa said, “Did you growl?”

  “Martin do that to you.” It came out sounding more like an accusation than a question.

  Her hand went to her neck, rubbing at the marks as if she could wipe away the fact Gil had seen them. “Really, you’re going to bring that up now?”

  No better time. “You’re right. Forget it.” But there was no way Gil could forget it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He had to consciously dig his heel into the deck of the cockpit to keep his knee from bouncing with nervous energy. “I’m going to kill him.”

  Tessa flicked a couple of switches. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

  Gil rubbed his hands down his thighs. She was right. He couldn’t remember a time when he would have gladly broken cover multiple times, endangering the success of the operation and to take matters into his own hands. All the more reason to make sure Spinks accepted his letter of resignation when this was all over.

  The tarmac was wet, and water dotted the windshield from the storm that had rolled through the area not long after he’d left Tessa’s room the night before. Beyond the windshield now, nothing but blue skies.

  “You got those GPS coordinate handy?” Tessa asked.

  Gil called the numbers out to her as she punched them into the navigation system. Burton had given them the coordinates before they’d left. Their money stop was on a path to a local airport in Montana where they’d refuel and return to Martin’s.

  With Martin monitoring their GPS location, they had little room to deviate from their set course.

  Tessa clicked over to the external mic and got clearance from the tower. Gil kept his tongue and let Tessa do her job. After takeoff, they rose higher and higher. The skies were clear, but turbulance near the airport tossed the small helo around much more than what he was used to with the Blackhawks and Chinooks.

  They hit turbulence and must have dropped fifty feet. Gil’s stomach lodged in his windpipe, and he had to consciously loosen his grip on the door handle before he ripped it clean off.

  When they reached their cruising altitude and settled into their two-hour flight, Tessa rolled her shoulders and resettled her grip on the stick between her legs.

  “How’s it feel?” Gil asked.

  “Light. Maneuverable. Like I’ve lost a hundred pounds and went out for a jog. But I miss my bird. This thing feels as delicate as a dandelion. One massive gust and it’ll disintegrate around us.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  Through the headset, Tessa’s warm chuckle settled in his brain. On the one hand, it was an odd feeling as if she were in his head, but then again, she was already in his heart.

  She glanced over at him. Despite what she’d said, there was a fire in her eyes. She liked the challenge—and danger—of flying a new helo.

  “What did Spinks say when you contacted him?”

  “Spinks couldn’t say much. All the code does is tell him I’m compromised and that I’ll get in touch when I can. If Burton hadn’t waited at the airport for us to take off, we might have been able to use one of the phones at the security desk.”

  “I’m sure that’s why we had the escort. You think Bradley told Burton you’re ATF?”

  Gil shook his head, though her focus was on the sky ahead of him and she couldn’t see it. “He didn’t treat me any different. No animosity. With him, what you see is what you get. I don’t think he’s a good enough actor to fake it.”

  Below them, the ground flew by, ribbons of back roads, foothills building and building higher until they crashed into the Rockies. This late in the summer, only the highest peaks had snow on them. In a field below, a herd of horses raced along the fence line.

  The air smoothed out, and Gil’s stomach dropped back into his abdomen. They approached a single runway airfield, and Tessa got clearance to fly through. Shortly past the airport, she said, “Ohmygod.”

  Instinctively, Gil gripped the door handle and glanced around them expecting to see another helo or plane headed straight for them. But there was nothing. “What? What?”

  “I know how we can get in touch with Spinks.”

  As Tessa piloted the ‘44 through skies so clear and blue that it made a pilot never want to land, she skimmed the eastern edge of the Rockies as they flew over Yellowstone Park. She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of how to contact Spinks sooner. She blamed her brain fart on trying to get the unfamiliar helo off the ground without getting them killed.

  “We get a tower to patch us through to the Bison County Sheriff’s Department,” Tessa said. “Get them to contact Spinks. He can direct us to a radio channel with light traffic. It will be an open frequency, anybody could overhear, but there’s likely little chance Bradley is monitoring radio frequencies.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  It took longer than Gil thought it would, but eventually, Spinks came over the radio and gave them a new radio frequency to switch to. They kept the conversation to the bare minimum, giving Spinks the GPS coordinates Burton had given them. Spinks was going to try to get the local sheriff’s department to monitor the area, but he couldn’t make any promises.

  Gil told Spinks that he suspected the shipment would be moved shortly after Martin got the money from the last investor. He told him about the SAM’s, and about the rest of the arsenal, all in crates newly spray painted and marked as relief supplies. He’d also told Spinks about Jack.

  “Tell me you guys have a plan to move in,” Gil said. “We can’t take a chance these weapons get in criminal hands, over.”

  The radio hissed and popped and when Gil was about to ask Tessa if they’d lost contact, Spinks said, “About that…”

  Fuck a duck. Gil didn’t speak because he didn’t want to jamb Spinks up, but he had a lot to say. Almost none of it could be reported over an open channel.

  “This is out of my hands. Orders from high, high, above. At this point, we’re relegated to overwatch at the mine only. The CIA’s involved on the foreign end. They want to monitor the shipment. Catch the buyers on the other side.
You copy?”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, over.”

  “Anything actionable, or just your gut?”

  “My gut, at this point.”

  “We’ll be monitoring this frequency,” Spinks said. “Let us know if anything changes.”

  “Copy, that. Out.”

  Tessa switched back to their internal mic and glanced over at him. “You’ve got that hinky feeling too?”

  “Man, it’s gnawing on my gut like a goddamn starving wharf rat. I’ll be damned if I know what it is, though.”

  They flew for several minutes with nothing but the muffled sound of the wind and rotors to keep them company. “I don’t get it,” Gil said, trying to work through his thought process out loud. “If Martin has already purchased all the weapons, why is he taking more money now?”

  “Besides the fact that he’s greedy?”

  Gil huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, besides that.”

  “Before we left, Bradley said this was my opportunity to earn his trust. But it feels more like I’m the pesky little kid sent away to play video games so mom and dad can get some real work done.”

  “You think this might be Martin’s way of getting us out of his hair?”

  “Better than killing us.” There was humor in Tessa’s words, but it sounded forced.

  “If the choice is a four or five-hour round-trip flight, or getting my ass shot, I’m taking the flight.”

  “What do you think the chances are that Bradley is taking this opportunity to get the shipment out without us underfoot?”

  “Better than house odds.”

  After a short discussion, they hailed Spinks on the radio and filled him in on their concerns. Spinks promised to update the team they’d sent out to monitor the mine.

  The next hour passed by in near silence, besides the whomp whomp of the rotor blades, and the whine of the engine. Gil felt like a hamster on a wheel, and even though they thought they now were on a wild goose chase, that gnawing in his gut didn’t go away, in fact, the closer they got to their destination, it grew from a rat to a beaver.

  “Something’s still not right,” Tessa said.

  They were the first words she’d spoken in a long while. Gil glanced over at her, her grip on the stick so tight her knuckles blanched, which said something about the woman who usually flew controlled and loose, like the helo was a natural extension of her body.

  Gil didn’t disagree. Odd that she’d repeat it without a new angle on the situation. “Why do you say that?”

  Instead of answering, she asked her own question. “What do you see down there?”

  “Trees. Trees. More trees. Rocks. Mountains.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “There’s nothing out here beside mountain goats and bear shit. I don’t even remember the last time I saw a paved road. The middle of nowhere is more populated than this.”

  “We’re five miles out from the meetup, and another twenty from our fuel stop. There’s no telling –”

  Gil saw a bright flash, and before his brain could register a what the fuck?, Tessa hollered, “Hang on!”

  Tessa banked the helo hard left and dove straight for the ground. Gil’s body smashed against the seatbelt, a grunt escaping as the straps dug into his shoulder and across his hips. Where was that five-point harness when you needed it?

  Adrenaline flooded his system demanding that he do something. Anything. His instinct was to grab the cyclic between his legs, but he didn’t know the first thing about flying a helicopter. This wasn’t his world, it was Tessa’s, and as the ground rushed up, the trees and the rocks got more substantial, the last thing Tessa needed was him distracting her with questions.

  Then he heard it, that all too familiar thap, thap, thap, thap, of bullets shredding metal.

  “Motherfuckers.” Tessa pulled out of the dive and zig-zagged behind a ridge. “Someone’s shooting at us.”

  “So much for Martin not wanting us dead,” Gil deadpanned.

  A fireball erupted behind them, rocks exploded, and trees burst into flames, sending bits of shrapnel in all directions, raining flaming debris. The windshield cracked, and Tessa muttered another curse. She yanked the cyclic back as far as it would go, and the helo’s nose pointed at the sky as they climbed higher and higher.

  “Anti-tank?”

  “Best guess. Been on the receiving end of one of those more than I would have liked.” There was little doubt in Tessa’s voice. “If it had been a guided missile, we wouldn’t be here.” She’d be the one to know. The helo shook and shuddered, but they cleared the blast zone. A red light on the panel blinked on, then another, as alarm bells blared.

  16

  Tessa didn’t have to look down at the cockpit control panel to know they were screwed. Well and truly. She could smell oil burning, and from the spongy way the pedals felt, it would be a close contest between what failed next, the engine or the rudder control.

  She had seconds to get their bird down before shit got real.

  Tessa didn’t even have time to send out a mayday. Smoke started filling the cockpit. She coughed as she shoved down on the collective and banked for a tiny scrap of bare ground among a forest of tall pines. Having not flown a Robinson before, she didn’t have a good feel for her rotor clearance, but it was going to be tight, and the downdrafts on the backside of the ridge would surely be a bitch.

  At least no one was shooting at them anymore.

  Sweat dripped down her back and into her eyes as the Robinson bucked and yawed. When their altitude reached twenty-five feet, she lost all rudder control and started to spin, then the downdraft caught the weakened bird in its meaty grip and slammed them into the ground.

  The rotors chewed through rocks and tree limbs, the sheering of metal deafening. The right side of her head ricocheted off the door, and her world went black.

  “Tessa. Tessa. Wake up.” Gil patted her cheek, which hurt like hell, but her mouth refused to work to tell him to knock it off.

  She managed a grunt, but opening her eyes seemed an impossibility. Then Gil opened one of her eyes for her, and she yanked her head away from the brightness. The motion made her head spin faster than the rotors had been. Finally, she managed to squint up at him.

  It was quiet. Very, very, quiet.

  The engine had stalled, and she could hear the ticking of the hot metal as it cooled, the call of a bird in a tree, the buzz of a fly near her ear.

  The smell of smoke and avgas mixed as the fuel leaked from the tank or a split in a line. They had to get out of there, but her arms felt thick and too unwieldy to move.

  “There you are,” Gil said. “Wake up, sleepy head, we gotta get the hell outta here.”

  His hands roamed her body. “Where are you hurt?”

  She grimaced when his hand pressed on the goose egg on the side of her head. The lower half of her right leg felt like it was on fire, but before she could get her voice, Gil’s hand ran down her leg.

  Pulses of pain licked up her leg, shot up her spine, and bombarded her brain. She screamed and pounded her head on the back of her seat to distract herself or knock herself out. At that point, she didn’t care which.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang tight,” Gil said, clasping the sides of her head to keep her from moving. “We’ve got a situation.”

  The smoke got thicker and blacker, rolling out the front of the cockpit where the windshield used to be. The soot coated the back of Tessa’s throat and seized her lungs. Her diaphragm spasmed and a coughing fit wracked her body. “G-get out.”

  “That’s the plan,” Gil said, his voice as thick as the smoke. “But first we gotta get your leg clear. There’s a metal rod sticking through your right calf.”

  “Gil…” They didn’t have that kind of time. The helo could explode at any second. Gil had time to get clear if he ran. Now. “Gil…”

  “Hang on.”

  He stripped off his belt. Tessa grabbed the front of his shirt and gave him
a shake. “Go. That’s an order.”

  “Not a chance.” His face was grim but determined.

  He ran his belt below her knee and yanked it tight. Then he reached down by her leg and said, “On the count of three, ready?” Gil didn’t give her the chance to nod before he started counting. “One—”

  Pain soared up her leg. She’d expected him to pull the rod out on the count of two, but he didn’t even give her that. She opened her mouth to scream, then the blackness blindsided her.

  She woke to the sound of an explosion, and her body thrown down on a bed of rocks. Gil landed on top of her like her own personal blood and bone shield. She couldn’t breathe, and it wasn’t from the smoke.

  She shoved at his chest. “Gil, you okay?”

  He groaned and shifted, bracing his weight on his arms as he looked down at her. There was a cut over his left eye, and an abrasion scoring his left cheek. “All I can say is that, after your ex, a relationship with me looks like a no-brainer.”

  “You could say that again.” Tessa laughed. It was either that or cry, and she didn’t have time for that. Her head hurt, her ears rang, and her world got a little fuzzy again. She swiped at the moisture on her cheek.

  Gil stared at her like she was something beautiful and rare, like the Hope diamond and the Star of India combined. How could he look at her like that when he’d almost died because of her? “I told you to go.”

  “I don’t take orders from you.”

  Tessa scowled. “Because I’m a woman?”

  “Because the last time I checked, you were on suspension, and even if you hadn’t been, you’re not even in my chain of command.”

  She reached a hand behind his neck and brought his lips to hers. “Lucky for me, then.”

  Gil glanced over at the burning wreckage and the black cloud blooming higher and higher as more and more trees caught fire. The summer had been exceedingly dry, the whole forest was like a box of TNT left in in the hands of a clumsy kid with a match fetish.