Moving Target Page 4

  When he emerged from the bathroom, she was sitting up in bed, studying her phone.

  “Morning,” he said as he crossed the room.

  She stretched her arms overhead, her eyes heavy with sleep and her short hair mussed. When she gave him a smile, it jolted through his system like an electric shock. If they’d met before his life had gone to hell, he would have asked her out, enjoyed getting to know her mind as well as the subtle curves of her sleek body.

  As it was, he had no idea from one hour to the next if he’d be a free man. He wasn’t in a position to offer her anything as stable as two hours for a normal date. Pissed and aggravated, he stalked over to the window. Through the frost build up, he scanned the parking lot, eager to meet the author of that note. The snow had stopped, but the wind hadn’t let up, tugging at hoods and coats of the few people hurrying along the sidewalks he could see.

  “You slept all right?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he replied. Glancing her way, he found himself mesmerized by her every move, couldn’t stop staring.

  She picked up her phone from the nightstand between the beds and swiped at the screen. Sitting up, she stretched again. She’d slept in a body-skimming tank top and shorts and apparently had no issues about body image or modesty. Good for her, tougher for him.

  He forced his attention back to the parking lot, telling himself there would be more normal days in his future. Assuming the man in gray’s men didn’t find him first.

  “You think there’s enough coffee for both of us?” she asked as she padded around to her luggage. “I could call the front desk or even the diner for delivery.”

  “We definitely have enough.” He’d make sure of it. Better that than risk being recognized. “It’ll be ready when you are.”

  “Thanks.” Her arms full of clothing, she paused at the bathroom door. “You won’t sneak off?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” Her smile flashed again before she closed the bathroom door.

  She should have that smile registered as a weapon, he thought. Body too, the way she moved stirred up a need inside him that he ruthlessly ignored. He dealt with the little coffee maker, wishing like hell he could just go downstairs and buy the good stuff.

  While the machine sputtered through the brew cycle for the first cup, Scott checked the window again. The fresh snow wasn’t enough to impede travel, but it had him rethinking how he’d manage the wilderness without proper gear.

  At the sound of the shower shutting off, he brewed the second cup of coffee and set it on the small countertop so she would see it when she opened the door. He had all kinds of skills, but no legal way to earn money right now. Stealing was weighing on his conscience, regardless of the necessity of it. How far would he have to travel until he found someone willing to give him a job without any proper identification? For that matter, how long would he have to run before people stopped looking for the federal fugitive?

  Of course, he’d never feel good about any kind of life if he left his friends in the lurch. He couldn’t take Jaime’s life to save the three of them, but there had to be a way to overpower the next team the man in the suit sent after him.

  Lost in thought, he didn’t hear Jaime until she stood beside him, her hands wrapped around the paper cup and the soft fragrance of her shampoo teasing his nose.

  “See anything interesting?” she asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “You snore,” she said, after another minute.

  He didn’t have a reply.

  “It wasn’t obnoxious or anything,” she continued. “Didn’t even keep me awake. It was kind of soothing, really.”

  So why bring it up?

  “Made me happy you were resting.”

  “Me too,” he said, letting her drag him into the conversation. He sat down at the table.

  “Still no idea who sent the care package?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not sure how long we should wait,” he admitted. He didn’t want her meeting that nasty pair in the daylight. The attack on the road had been bad enough.

  “As long as it takes, I suppose.” She walked over and checked her phone. “Oh good. My cousin at the auto shop says the car will be ready by lunchtime.”

  “Good.” He studied her closely. “If not Clover City, where were you headed when you got the flat?”

  “I was headed west of Bozeman, Montana.” She sat down in the chair opposite his. “My family has property near the foothills of the Crazy Mountains. I was thinking, if you, um, need a place to lay low, it’s a good spot.”

  “Your place?”

  Her big eyes widened and her lips curved again. “It’s in the family. Plus, the ranch that borders our land is abandoned. It’s not perfect, but no one would look for you there.”

  Assuming that capsule meant he couldn’t be tracked anymore.

  “And there’s a former SEAL that returned to the area a few years ago. He might be able to help you if this morning’s meeting doesn’t go the way you want it to.”

  “Why are you doing all this for me? I’m a stranger?”

  Her eyes clouded over and her soft lips parted to reply when the knock on the door cut her off. Her relief at the reprieve was palpable and only made him more curious.

  “Dude, you there?” accompanied another knock.

  This time Jaime got to the window first and whatever she saw brought a scowl to her face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Just the glare off the snow,” she said. “Ask for credentials,” she directed, darting toward the nightstand where she’d left her pistol.

  He did and got a laugh in response. “It’s cold out here and we’re trying to help.”

  At her nod, he peered through the peephole and then opened the door as far as the chain allowed. Two men and one woman stood there. Behind him, Jaime gasped.

  “I’m Amelia,” the woman began. The sunlight glinted in her red hair as she waved one mitten-covered hand. “John and Ben,” she pointed at each of the men flanking her. “We sent over the bag last night.”

  “You took the pill. Smart,” said the man she’d introduced as Ben.

  “Can we come in? We brought breakfast for both of you.”

  How did they know he wasn’t in here alone unless they’d been following him too? Good grief it was as if he was out here leading some sort of covert parade.

  John carried a big white to-go bag in each hand.

  About as non-threatening as a group could pretend to be, he thought. Still, he hesitated. No matter what the props, he recognized the capable readiness in John’s stance and the sheer confidence in his gaze. Scott would bet good money this was a man who’d done things most men wouldn’t dare.

  By the tilt of her head, Jaime left the choice to him, though she didn’t lower the weapon.

  He closed the door, slid the chain back and then opened it wider. Only John and Amelia were there.

  “Where’s Ben?”

  “He stepped away to keep watch,” Amelia replied, with a careless wave. Both she and John noticed Jaime—impossible to miss being held at gunpoint—though neither of them seemed fazed. The only concession made was John shifting to shield Amelia from a potential bullet.

  “You heard the introductions?” Scott asked Jaime.

  “Yup,” she replied.

  “This is Jaime,” he said to their guests.

  “We’re no threat to you, really,” Amelia said. “You’re Jaime Castle? Champion in skeet and trap shooting as well as a martial arts expert, right? Olympic gold medalist?”

  “How do you know all of that?” Jaime asked.

  “Not-yet-reformed journalist, so research is my passion,” Amelia confessed.

  That explained the gun cases and the innate self-assurance. Scott absorbed the new information, trying to figure out how or why she’d wound up on anyone’s hit list.

  John crossed to the table and set down the bags of food. When he opened them, Scott’s stomach growled. “We brought a little of everyt
hing,” he said. “Ben thought you’d be hungry. He always has a good sense about these things.”

  Scott stared at the strangers. “You realize today just hit the top three on my strangest days list?”

  “We do,” Amelia assured him. “We believe we can help clear up a few things and maybe answer a few questions if you’re interested in having a life again someday.”

  “Some day?” Jaime asked, lowering the pistol and setting the safety. “What does that mean?”

  “It takes time to sort out the best options,” John began, “whether that involves cleaning up public records or even falsifying death certificates, though I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  “What did you get yourself into?” Jaime asked, staring at Scott with a weird blend of amusement and exaggerated horror in her soft brown eyes.

  “I really don’t have any idea,” he replied.

  “Would you rather have some privacy?” she asked. “I can go wait with the car.”

  He shook his head. “Stay. I trust you.” And he didn’t want to let her out of his sight, in case the other team showed up.

  Her eyebrows arched under the wispy fringe of her hair and he caught the glance between the strangers. Grabbing a biscuit sandwich piled thick with egg, cheese and sausage, he sat on the edge of the bed, leaving the chairs for the women. John propped up the door, a cup of coffee in one hand and a cruller in the other, still managing to look lethal.

  “Have you talked to anyone about any of this?” John asked. “Before or after the escape,” he added.

  No one believed him before the court martial. Who would’ve believed anything he had to say after, Scott wondered. “Not since I met with the JAG lawyer assigned to me.”

  “Good.” John’s chin dipped once in the affirmative.

  “Did you recognize anyone who handled your transfer in or out of the prison?” Amelia asked.

  “No.” Scott shook his head. “They pulled the three of us out of closed cells, walked us right through a side gate, and shoved us into a big, black SUV.”

  Another look passed between the couple.

  “Did they speak at all?” John queried.

  “No. We were all drugged at some point. When we came around, it was daylight. I was too groggy to remember anything about the driver. There was a screen or something between him and us. I think the SUV rolled about an hour after I woke up.” Yet another speaking glance set him off. “What the hell do you know about any of this?” he demanded.

  John popped the last of the cruller into his mouth and chewed slowly. Swallowed. Got a small nod from Amelia. “We know you and two other soldiers were accused of murder on your FOB. You were hauled back here for a court martial. No priors for any of you, commendation medals all around, in fact.”

  “Eat,” Amelia encouraged them both with a friendly smile.

  Scott didn’t spare so much as a glance for Jaime, afraid of what he’d see on her face. Why it mattered, he couldn’t say. He took another bite, but the savory food turned to sawdust in his mouth.

  John shifted his stance, leaning the opposite shoulder on the door. “Things went from bad to worse during the legal proceedings, right?”

  “Yeah.” He wrapped the remainder of his sandwich. Maybe he’d try again later. “I was sure the truth would be enough. All of us were.”

  “Not a chance,” Amelia said gently. “Not when you’ve been set up by experts.” She smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re an excellent soldier and because of that you were targeted by an off-the-books black ops agency.”

  “The three of you are up against an elite team with too much power and reach. This is a standard recruit approach: create a situation you can’t escape on your own. It makes what they offer you instead sound almost reasonable,” John continued. “Haven’t you wondered why local law enforcement isn’t on your tail?”

  “I was counting my blessings,” Scott admitted.

  “Your escape hasn’t been publicized at all,” Amelia said, raising a hand to halt his concern. “I’m fairly sure your two friends are alive and being held elsewhere. We think the agency is trying to rebuild after John,” she smiled over at him, “and others managed to cut ties and break free. They use the latest treatments and technologies to enhance, track, and control their operatives.”

  Jaime pressed her fingers to her lips, too late to stifle the gasp, drawing their combined attention. “This sounds like some crazy sci-fi super-soldier thing,” she said. “Does this agency have a name?”

  “Yes,” John said. “Unknown Identities. They may have started with good intentions for future military applications, but it’s way off track now.”

  Bizarre as it was, every detail rang true for Scott. He’d been given an impossible ultimatum, playing on his loyalty. And they’d tracked him far too easily on this endeavor. “How did you find me? Do you have access to their tracking gear too?”

  Amelia raised her hand. “I noticed a headline about three convicted killers breaking out of prison near Fort Hood. It sounded hokey, so John asked Ben to take a closer look and he picked up your trail. We’re here now to offer you a different solution.”

  “I don’t suppose your solution gets me back to my career and my unit?”

  “No,” Amelia said.

  “You can’t go back to Ft. Hood,” John said, his voice full of regret. “The UI team would kill you and hunt down anyone you might have confided in. They can’t afford for you to even whisper your side of the story.”

  “Our solution would give you a chance at a real life, without always looking over your shoulder.”

  “What kind of life?” Jaime asked. “Won’t the Army keep after him for the crimes this agency staged?”

  “In time, I believe we can get that cleared up. In the short term, we’d find you a safe place to lay low. We’ve done it before.”

  Now Scott looked to Jaime, thinking of the more appealing offer she’d made. “And if I don’t go with you?”

  “It’s your call.” John pushed away from the door, his hands loose at his sides. “Ben will follow you for a few days to be sure the tracker they injected stays dead. You’ll never see us again.”

  “That’s not the smart play,” Amelia murmured.

  “And what would I owe you?” Scott asked. “You’re not here out of the goodness of your heart.”

  Something in John’s lethal gaze flashed a warning.

  “You might be surprised,” Amelia said, standing. Her phone sounded, stealing her attention. She frowned at the screen, then turned to John. “Ben says UI operatives are here.”

  “Shit.” John moved to the window, barely shifting the curtains to scan the parking lot. “Tailing Scott or her car?”

  “Her car,” Amelia replied. “They’re at the auto shop.”

  “Well, that’s something.” John looked at Jaime. “Did you leave anything in the car?”

  “Just the registration,” she replied. “It lists my home address in Bozeman, Montana. Will they hurt my cousin at the garage?”

  “Only if he’s standing in front of Mr. Blackwell. They can’t afford to draw extra attention.” To Amelia, he said, “Tell him to turn on the body camera.”

  Scott assumed the UI team was playing low key right now for far different reasons than being a fugitive. Or maybe it wasn’t so different after all.

  “You know he hates that,” she said even as she sent the text message.

  “He’ll deal. Scott and Jaime should make informed decisions.”

  “Did you pay for the room with a credit card?” Amelia asked.

  Jaime shook her head. “More family connections. I have an account.”

  “This will be their next stop.” Scott looked around, knowing the three people in this room were all in danger. Ben too. “They want me,” he said, hoping it was true. “I’ll go out, draw them away.”

  John cocked an eyebrow. “Too risky. Let Ben handle it. If they head this way, what do you have besides the nine-millimeter you used to greet us?�
��

  Jaime brought out her gun cases and the ammo, spreading it all across the bed. Two competition shotguns and the revolver he’d used last night were a good start, though they were light on ammunition.

  “We only need enough to hold their attention,” Amelia assured Scott and Jaime. “Ben’s a whiz in situations like this.”

  Scott couldn’t figure out what kind of situation this actually was. He squared off with John, staring him down. “Situations like this are normal for you?”

  “Working on changing that,” John muttered, flipping the safety on his own pistol. “Once this agency targets you nothing is normal again,” he said. “What’ll it be, Blackwell? A life of brute force, violence, and non-negotiable orders from UI or a second chance to live life on your terms.”

  No choice.

  Armed with the revolver, Scott waited, listening for sounds of a fight, sirens, anything to indicate Ben was ‘whizzing’ through the situation. Beside him Jaime was doing the same. John had insisted Amelia stay near the bathroom, in case UI agents breached the room.

  Scott glanced over at Jaime. She looked set and ready and thoughtful. “Bet you’re sorry I was the one to help with that tire.”

  “Nope.”

  She would be. If they survived this, he’d confess everything about how he’d wound up here. He wasn’t looking forward to the fallout, but maybe these two could keep her safe while he circled back to Texas to save his friends.

  Chapter 7

  Jaime registered Scott’s disbelief, but she didn’t have any regrets about giving him a ride or keeping him close. She didn’t blame him for this mess. Whatever was going on was clearly beyond his control. He’d seemed as lost as she felt with every convoluted detail John and Amelia shared about the black-ops agency. She understood classifications and the need for secrecy, but she loathed abuse of power. If only half of what she’d heard in the past few minutes was true it was too much. Someone had targeted Scott and was using him as a pawn.

  Her immediate focus was helping all of them survive the next few minutes. Whoever had attacked them on the road last night had shown impressive persistence. She wasn’t looking forward to a similar confrontation here in broad daylight.