Agent I1: Tristan [01] The D.I.R.E. Agency (11 page)

#####

“Everything ok?”

Tristan came back in the door and sat down beside Rachel at Glenna & Mark’s dining room table. Something wasn’t right. She could see it in the crease between his brows, the thin line of his mouth.

His armband wasn’t illuminated either. Her stomach sank. Something was definitely wrong.

“I can’t even take a week of vacation without the agency calling me.” He gave them a fake smile.

“I hear you there,” Mark said. “Either that, or they wait and hold all of the problems until your first day back. Then you want to turn around and leave again.”

Tristan gave a distracted nod. She needed to get him home and find out what happened. Did it have something to do with those men they saw today? Had he found out something about her father’s death?

“So, do you guys want to go to the game tomorrow night?” Glenna said. “Mom will watch Ty overnight so we can grab some pizza afterwards.”

Rachel shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Tris?”
Tell me why we can’t go. Tell me what’s wrong.

“Let’s do it.” Tristan looked at her. “The distraction will do us some good.”

“Then it’s decided.” Glenna clapped her hands together. “We’ll pick you up at six.”

An hour later, they walked across the grass to her front yard. Tristan scoured the area, his body tense and alert.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Escorting her inside the house, he shut the door and locked it. She followed him as he went around the house and checked all the window locks. “Why is your armband turned off?”

He whipped around. “You noticed that?”

Frowning, she nodded. “Yes. What’s happened? Is it the men we saw today? Who are they?”

Stopping in her bedroom, he motioned for her to sit down on the bed. He paced in front of her and ran his hands through his hair. The agitation was so unlike him, Rachel became seriously worried.

“The men we saw today are from a criminal organization we face often. They’re into everything you can think of – extortion, weapons, money laundering – you name it. I’ve ruined a lot of their business dealings over the years so they’ve got it in for me. I think they tracked me here with this.” He held up his wrist.

Rachel felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. “So you think they’re here to kill you?”

“No, I think they’re here to take me in. I’ve got a lot of information they want. Once they discover my powers, I’ll be like a laboratory frog ready for dissection.”

Rachel’s heart stopped before it galloped out of control. She jumped to her feet. “
Go
.
Get out of here
. Teleport somewhere.” She tried to push him towards the door but she couldn’t budge him.

“I won’t leave you.”

Stilling, she could believe what he just said. “What?”

He just stared at her, expressionless.

She searched his eyes, looking for sanity. “Are you crazy? You’re worried about Cody coming around here when you’ve got men like that trying to kill you? And, don’t think I buy that ‘they want to take me in’ crap. They may take you in, but not even the frog survived the science lab.”

Clutching her upper arms, Tristan stared at her with swirling, indigo eyes. “I won’t leave you, Rachel.”

He
was
crazy. She pushed him away. “What good are you to me dead?”

Hands on hips, he spoke in a patronizing tone. “I’m not going to die. I’m trained for situations like this.”

“They tracked you here without you knowing about it.”

“Yes.” He gave her a firm nod. “But, I made Aidan a promise.”

She held out her hands. “So? I think he would understand, considering the circumstances. Besides, I could always call Zach to stay with me.”

Tristan’s nostrils flared as his fists clenched at his sides. “That’s not happening.”

And, he said
she
was stubborn?

“Tris, go.” Feeling defeated, Rachel shook her head. “If something happened to you because of me, I couldn’t live with myself.” 

She fought the tears, knowing they’d upset him. She needed him to stay focused on his own safety.

“I’m not leaving Rachel.”

“Why Tris?” She shook him now, her vision blurred. “Why?”

Clutching her face in both hands, he said, “Don’t you get it? Ensuring you’re safe is worth more to me than my life ever will. I don’t have anything outside of
D.I.R.E
. If I die, I want to die for something I believe in and take my word for it, there isn’t much out there. But you, Rachel, you’re worth dying for.”

Chapter 9

Tristan watched Rachel sleep on the sofa while he talked on the phone in the kitchen. After their heated exchange in the bedroom, she’d gone to her nightstand, pulled out a 9mm Beretta and loaded it. At first, he’d thought she intended to make him leave at gunpoint. Then she’d told him she would sleep close by and be ready if anyone broke in.

The thought still made Tristan’s chest swell. Not that he would ever allow her to endanger herself for his benefit.

She was definitely a Monroe.

“Max, are these all of them?”

Max yawned into the phone. “What? That isn’t enough for you? They owe a small fortune.”

Tristan stared at the list of existing medical bills for Jim Monroe. Rachel was right – they would never get all of them paid off on their own.

“Pay them all. Cash in some of my mutual funds. I want them all paid in full.”

Silence met his demand before Max exploded. “Are you freakin’ crazy? That’s a lot of money.”

“Do it, Max.”

He sighed into the phone. “Okay. It’s your money.”

“That’s right. Oh, and have a new, fully-loaded pickup delivered to her house after I’m gone.”

“Anything else? Yacht? Mansion? Small island, per chance?”

“Max…”

“Okay, okay. I‘ll get on it tomorrow.”

“Thanks.”

Tristan hesitated before he spoke again. He knew Max wouldn’t like his next words any more than he liked his first.

“I also want you to draw up a will for me.”

He heard Max’s chair squeak. A sure sign he sat up straight in the old, leather monstrosity.

“What’s going on, Jacobs?”

“I want to keep it simple. I want you to leave all of my assets – everything I own - to Rachel Monroe, Aidan’s sister.”

“What?”

“Do it, Max.”

“Does Mitchell know about this?”

Tristan frowned up at the ceiling. “No, and he doesn’t need to know.”

“I’m required to report something like this to him. I can’t do it behind his back.”

Of course. Mitchell had his thumb in everything at D.I.R.E.

“Fine. Then tell him. But, not until I’ve signed off on it and everything is legal. I don’t want him trying to pull some bullshit to stall it.”

“Tristan, if I lose my job over this…”

Like Mitchell would ever let Max leave. There weren’t many people Mitchell trusted, but Max Bruner was one of them.

“Yeah. Go tell someone that actually believes that could happen.”

Max cursed under his breath. “So, does Monroe know you have the hots for his sister?”

His gaze went to the sleeping beauty lying under a patch quilt on the sofa. If having the hots for Rachel wasn’t an understatement, he didn’t know what was. She had quickly become an obsession.

“No. He would draw and quarter me.”

Max laughed in his ear. “Now, he wouldn’t have to go to all that trouble. All he’d have to do is touch you.”

Tristan sat up in the chair. “What have they done to him?”

“Hell, I can’t tell you that, Jacobs. Mitchell would draw and quarter
me
.”

#####

“I hear you’re looking for Jacobs.”

Dar sauntered to a stop a few feet from the big, blond man leaning against their black SUV. He and Matt had just eaten the best pancakes on the planet at Brewster’s diner. The coffee could’ve put hair on a baboon’s ass but the pancakes were melt-in-your-mouth incredible. He’d have to work out for a week to lose the leaden mass lying in his stomach.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?”

The man straightened away from the vehicle. Wow. This guy was straight from a western wear ad. In a cowboy hat, plaid western shirt and jeans, he had chewing tobacco in his lip and mud on his boots. Dar wondered if he skidded across the hood of his truck to get in each time.

“Are you looking for Tristan Jacobs or not?”

Dar didn’t move a muscle, but in his head, he danced around like a disco fool. No one in town –
no one
– would give him information in Jacobs. That’s why he’d resorted to talking to those boys in the park. Now, this redneck brought it to him on a silver platter. Some days things just went your way.

He nodded once.

“I can tell you where to find him.”

Dar shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “Why that’s right neighborly of you…?”

“Cody. Cody Brewster.” He stuck out his hand for a shake. Dar just stared at it. There was no telling where that country boy’s hand had been. He wouldn’t touch it with a cattle prod.

“So, where can I find him?”

Cody pulled back his hand with a frown. “Why do you want to know?”

Matt said, “Let’s just say we have a score to settle.”

Brewster’s nostrils flared over his tobacco-stained teeth. “Get in line.”

Interesting. Dar had assumed Jacobs arrived in Creekmore in advance of their deal next week.

“What did he do to you, Brewster?”

Brewster’s hands clenched into fists. “The sonovabitch stole my bride from my wedding last Saturday.”

Pulling back his head, Dar shared a glance with Matt. What the hell?

“Jilted at the altar, Brewster?”

He growled low in his throat.

Dar grinned to himself. The primitive mind was so easy to manipulate. “She must be one helluva romp.”

Growling aloud this time, Brewster held up a fist. Matt flashed him the gun holstered under his jacket. Cody lowered his arm.

“I’ll get her back. I just need him out of the picture. Can you take care of it?”

If Jacobs was easy to ‘take care of,’ he would’ve done it a long time ago. However, this was the best opportunity he’d ever had to get rid of him. Capitalizing on it would make his father ecstatic.

“Where can I find him?”

“First, I need your word you won’t hurt her.”

Was this guy serious? Who dealt in honor anymore? What a country bumpkin.

Dar smothered a grin. “Word.”

Matt snickered beside him.

“Prick,” Brewster muttered. “Rachel Monroe. 134 Destiny Lane.” He held out his phone. “Here’s her picture.”

Dar took it in his hand. Wow. He could see why Jacobs salivated over her. The woman could give Cassandra a run for her money. Blocking his number, he sent the photo to his phone.

“I mean it, man. Rachel better not get hurt. I have plans for her.”

Dar rolled his eyes. He really didn’t give a shit what Brewster had planned. His plans were bigger.

He would use whatever means necessary to capture and kill Tristan Jacobs.

Chapter 10

Ben looked up from his television with a stern frown. “I could’ve died and you’d never know it, seeing as how you haven’t been by to see me in God knows how long.”

Rachel bent to kiss Ben on the cheek. “Ben, we were here the day before yesterday.”

He hit the off button on his remote. “It’s not about what you’ve done for me in the past. It’s about what you can do for me today.”

Tristan chuckled to himself. The old man was wound up this morning.

Rachel straightened away from him. “Ben, what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing. Now, go get me some juice from the kitchen.”

Rachel glanced at Tristan with round, questioning eyes. Tristan shrugged. Like he would know?

“Why do you want juice? You have coffee sitting right here on your side table.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Because I need you to skedaddle for a few minutes.”

Rachel’s mouth dropped open. “Why?”

He ushered her to the door. “I want to talk to the boy.”

Rachel frowned as she held firm. “What boy?”

Ben pointed at Tristan. “Jacobs here, your bodyguard.”

Me
? Oh, hell.

“Why?” 

The poor woman looked totally flummoxed. Tristan could relate. He felt just as clueless. The only thing it could be was Jim’s murder. The old man must have more to tell him.

“If I wanted you to know, Missy, I wouldn’t be trying to get rid of you, now would I?”

He smothered a grin. “How far is the kitchen?  I’m trying to keep Rachel close, Ben.”

“It’s just down the hall,” he said, his tone defensive. “Not far at all.”

Turning to Rachel, he clutched her arm in warning. “Are you okay with this?” 

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Sure.” 

Kissing her forehead, he said, “Stay alert. Hurry back, okay?”

With an uncertain nod, she left the room. Tristan’s gut churned as she dropped out of sight.

“This had better be good, old man.”  Turning around a chair, he straddled it and faced Ben.

The old man shut the door. “It is.”

Walking back to the table, Ben pulled a large scroll from the side pocket on his tan recliner. Unrolling it, Ben laid out a plan of Creekmore and the surrounding acreage.

He pointed at the paper. “Jock Brewster owns all of the land south of town, farther than this map shows.”

Tristan nodded. “Oil?”

“Yep. A lot of it.” He gave a wily grin. “But, I have more.”

Tristan stilled in his chair. “What?”

“I own several thousand acres on either side of him – east and west. I don’t own as much land, but…”

“But?...”  Tristan cocked a brow.

“They tell me I have three times as much oil.”

Damn
. The old guy was filthy rich. Just like Brewster. Tristan would’ve never guessed. The old man didn’t flaunt it or show it.

“Has he tried to buy it from you?”

“Oh, hell yeah. “  Ben waved away the question. “Over the last few years, he’s tried everything to get that land. I won’t budge.”

“Why not? I mean-”

Ben held up his hand to stop him. “I know what you mean. I’m at the end of my life. Why don’t I unload it and just enjoy the rest of my days?”