ANOMALY.MIL (The Conspiracy Series Book One): A Romantic Suspence Novel (12 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ansel was halfway down the hall when he heard his sister yelling, and he couldn't breathe.
'He held a gun to your head?'
He just stood there in the hall, frozen to the spot with guilt threatening to pull him to his knees. Devastated, he set the duffel bag in front of Seneca's bedroom then went to his own and locked the door.

He pulled off his shoes and crawled into bed, praying for sleep. His respite from feeling, from thinking. Thinking about Seneca, thinking about Cat, and thinking about what was to come. He closed his eyes and he must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew there was a knock at his door.

"Ansel?" It was Gwen. "I brought you some supper, sweetie."

"Just a second." He got off the bed and turned on the lights, then opened the door and took the laden tray she was holding in her withered hands. He placed it on the nightstand. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She gave him a polite smile. "Joe called." His senses sharpened as he prepared himself for more bad news. "He found a place in Seattle where we can stay."

Ansel tried to smile. "How’s the guy at the hospital?"

"He has a pretty bad concussion," she confirmed. "And…" Trepidation straightened his back. "Your kick bruised his sternum, but he'll get over it. Those Mormons are a tough group of people," she chortled, but he knew she was just trying to make him feel better. "Well, you go on and eat, sweetie. It's already nine o'clock."
That late
? "And I was thinking we should leave first thing in the morning."

"I think that’s a good idea," he said, and she started to close the door, but Ansel stopped her. "Thank you, Gwen."

"You eat, darlin'," she said. "You'll feel better in the morning."

But they both knew she was not talking about the food.

Gwen left the room and Ansel ate, sitting alone on his bed. Chicken Parmesan this time. Two breasts, undoubtedly because he ‘needed the protein.'

And he did.

After he ate, he decided to read. There were two books in the room. One about computer data structures, and the other a historical romance set in Scotland. It was pretty good. Sometime around midnight, he took a shower then tried to read some more, but he couldn't stop thinking.

How was he gonna stop the entire United States government from coming after his sister? He couldn't protect her for long. It was inevitable that they would take her. The only permanent solution was to make them not
want
to take her.

But in order to do that, he had to figure out why they wanted her in the first place.
Fuck.
He sighed, frustrated. Dave would help him figure it out when they saw him tomorrow. Seneca too.

Seneca.

Just the thought of her tied him in knots. He didn't know why. Probably the stress. He stood up and walked to his bedroom door. He needed to apologize to her. To make sure that Catherine had not upset her any more than she already was.

No, it’s late
.

He should wait and talk to her in the morning. She'd be asleep by now. In a T-shirt and panties. Lace panties. The feel of her ass flashed in his mind. And he knew she would not be wearing a bra to bed. The moan of pleasure she gave when he took her nipple in his mouth echoed in his mind, and he wanted to hear it again.

Fuck!

His breathing was shallow and he was getting hard. He shouldn't, but he wanted to see her. Wanted to make amends.

It wouldn't take long. Her bedroom was just across the hall. He would just slip in, and tell her how sorry he was…in the dark, where he wouldn't have to look at her.

And then he would leave.
If she wanted him to.

He opened his door, willing to take the risk that she would reject him. But the moment he stepped into the hall, a sharp pain exploded in his right kidney.

He dropped to his knees, hearing, "Hola, asshole," in his left ear.

Win
. That motherfucker!

Ansel kicked the bastard hard on the outside of his left knee, and he smiled when he heard something crunch. The son of a bitch groaned, but Ansel only had time to feel a moment of satisfaction before he felt a thick forearm connect with the right side of his jaw.

Lights came on as stars burst in his eyes. He fell on his back near the living room. Just when Win was about to kick him in the stomach with his steel toed combat boot, Ansel swept the bastard's legs out from under him.

The son of a bitch landed flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him and incapacitating him long enough for Ansel to get in a punishing blow to his liver.

Roaring in pain, the bastard flew at him, straddling Ansel so he could more easily beat the shit out of him. And the motherfucker was enjoying doing just that. Ansel was close to losing consciousness when he caught a glimpse of Gunner, just watching him take the beating.

Gunner, his best friend.

Ansel chuckled and blood flew out of his mouth. He wanted to pass out to end the pain from Win's relentless blows, but he wouldn’t give the son of a bitch the satisfaction.

Ansel was hauling his fist back for one last blow, when he heard, "Get off him or I'll shoot you."

It was Gwen.

The other men were too far away to disarm her. Win just laughed at the sight of the old woman, standing in the hallway wearing a frilly pink robe.

"
You're…
gonna shoot
me?"

"Son." Gwen's eyes turned to slits. "We have a terrible coyote problem around here, and I can assure you that I'm an excellent shot."

"Yeah, well." Win rose to his full height of six foot four. "I'm no coyote, lady. And this man," he said, bending over to pull Ansel up by the arm, "Is in the custody of—"

And then Gwen shot the bastard.

Win dropped like a ton of bricks, grabbing his left butt cheek. She looked first at Gunner, and then at Drew.

"Drop your weapons or you’re next," she ordered, and Gunner nodded, dropping his gun on the coffee table. Drew followed suit. "And your backup pistols, and any knives you have on you."

"Both sets," Ansel groaned, using every ounce of strength to push himself upright.

"I have some zip ties in the garage," Gwen said, and he nodded. "They’re in the red tool chest, sweetie."

Ansel rummaged through the garage, and limped back with the heaviest grade zip ties he could find. He threw the clear plastic strips on the bright blue carpet, then glanced over at Cat and Seneca, who now stood, terrified, at the entrance to the hall.

The fear on their faces made him furious and he fully intended to take it out on the men who had put it there.

"Sit on the couch, and tie your own feet. Tight," he ordered, knowing better than to get too close to his colleagues. Especially in his current condition.

But Win didn't move. "I can't sit down, that bitch shot me."

Ansel tossed his head toward the other couch. "On your stomach," he said, before turning his attention to the other two men. "Gunner, tie Drew's wrists, then he can tie yours."

The remaining two ties he reserved for Win Caffrey. Ansel dropped a crushing knee into the small of Win's back.

He put all of his weight into it then leaned down and smiled, saying, "Hands behind your back, motherfucker," with more satisfaction than he had felt in a long time.

Win sneered, but he lifted his arms, knowing that he was caught. Ansel left him on the couch before walking over to pick up Gunner's sidearm off the living room floor.

"I got 'em," he said, so the older woman could lower her heavy shotgun.

Ansel stared at his best friend, looking deep into the eyes of the man who had tried to kill his sister.

"Why?" he asked, trying to ignore the dull ache buried deep in his chest.

"Treat Win's wounds first, and I’ll tell you what I know."

"I'll treat him," Gwen said. "Shouldn't take long. I only shot him with plastic pellets." She caught Win's eye. "Hurts the coyotes like hell, though."

She walked to the bathroom to get the medical supplies and he looked at Gunner, shaking with rage.

"This is my sister, Catherine Miller." Gunner's eyes swept over his sister then came back to meet his. "Cat," Ansel snarled, "This is Gunner Holstad. My best friend and the man who tried to kill you."

"Ma'am," Gunner said, bobbing his head toward Cat like they were at a military ball before turning his attention to Seneca. He stared at her, taking her all in. A broad smile spread across his face, a smile Ansel knew was reserved for seducing women. "And you are?"

Ansel wanted to punch him. Hard and repeatedly.

"It doesn't fuckin’ matter who she is." He didn't want Gunner to know her name. Or anything about her. "Why were you sent to my sister's house?"

Gunner shrugged. "No idea. We received orders to secure her, or, if necessary…"

He didn't finish. Didn't have to.

"So you would have killed her without knowing why?"

"Ansel, we're soldiers. We obey orders," he scoffed. "How the hell was I supposed to know she was your sister? For all I knew, Catherine Miller could have been planning the next big terrorist attack right out of her prosaic home."

"Hey!" Cat was pissed. "My home is not prosaic."

Gunner rolled his eyes. "If you say so, ma'am."

"And you know what else I don't appreciate, you smug bastard," Cat said, waving a finger in Gunner's face. "My own government trying to kill me."

"Look." Gunner ignored her and tried to reason with Ansel. "You know teams aren't sent out on a whim. Your sister must have done something,” he smirked, looking at Cat. "Maybe she's dealing drugs for Al Qaeda and just forgot to tell you."

"Oh, we know what she did to deserve your knock on her door," Ansel growled, and then asked Gwen to explain the DNA anomaly and the evidence she had accumulated, of all the people killed because they were carriers.

"So, if your sister has this DNA, then you have it too?" Gunner concluded, a quick study. "That's probably why they called you into headquarters. So we wouldn’t have to come get you."

"They snatched a kid?" Win was suddenly interested. "What could a kid have don—"

"What could my sister have done?" Ansel snapped, holding his arm out in her direction. "She publishes a food magazine, for Christ’s sake. No." He was sure. "This sanction has something to do with this DNA anomaly, because those murders could not have been a coincidence."

Everyone thought to themselves, but it was Drew who spoke up. "You ever watch that movie were the guy, like, uh, he unleashes a virus that kills the entire planet?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Win grumbled.

"Maybe you guys,” Drew pointed between Ansel and Cat, “are like that chick, Typhoon Mary?"

"It's
Typhoid
Mary, dumbass," Win sighed, "and if they did carry some dangerous virus, they would have quarantined
all
of the people with that type of DNA a long time ago. Killing them is a bit…extreme, don't you think?"

"Then you have something the army must want," Seneca said to Ansel, and all eyes turned to look at her. "The DNA must contain something they want. Or, if it is dangerous, something that can be weaponized. Gwen said that only a handful of people had this anomaly out of…?" She looked to Gwen for help.

"Twenty million profiles."

"Wow. Okay, out of twenty million. And because there are so few of you, the government must have thought the connection between these victims would never be made."

"That's plausible," Ansel nodded, then turned to Gwen. "Why do you think they would kill the older people with the DNA profile?"

Gwen raised a brow. "I thought a lot about that. The obvious conclusion is that the anomaly is connected to the reproductive system. But…" She was shaking her head. "It could be much more complicated than that. The genetic variance could simply have an expiration date."

"And the older people were no longer of any use, because their DNA…expired." Gunner stared at Ansel. "How old are you?"

"Younger than my sister. And they told you to bring her in alive?"

Gunner shrugged. "They preferred we do so. 'Not an imperative', is what I was told. So, your sister is most likely at our age threshold."

"I think you’re right, but I need to find a lab so I can test you both." Gwen's eyes lit up, and she grinned. "And I know just the place. The—"

"Don't say it," Ansel held up his hand, then looked down at the men seated in front of him. "I don't want Gunner to know where we're going."

"Fine, don't tell me." Gunner shook his head. "But I’ll tell you this. If I don't call General Hawkins, and soon, he’s going to send out another team to take Catherine.

“You should also know, that the moment I found out Catherine was your sister, I went to the general and told him that I could use our friendship to bring you in too."