ANOMALY.MIL (The Conspiracy Series Book One): A Romantic Suspence Novel (8 page)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Captain Gunner Holstad sat in the driver seat of the black SUV with two of his top guys.

In the passenger seat was Drew Stockton. A politically connected twenty-one-year-old college dropout from Tennessee, who decided to join special ops rather than take some cushy army post back in Washington, D.C.

Drew had been promoted below the line because he was brilliant and Gunner had been smart enough to request that the kid be assigned to his unit, before anyone else had a chance to figure that out.  

"These fuckin’ clouds." Drew sat back, spinning his purity ring to lessen his exasperation with the spotty satellite feed.

The computer screen illuminated his face with a ghostly glow as he concentrated on tracing the path of the Feds who’d intercepted their target.  "All right, keep headin' east on I-90. But unless these clouds dissipate
somewhere down the road…We lost 'em."

Win Caffrey sat behind Gunner, but he turned his head to look at Drew, sneering at the unacceptable failure. "Well, find them.”

"Shut the fuck up, Winchester," Drew spat, because he knew Win hated his name. "If you have the ability to part the goddamn sky, then do it already."

"I can't do that for you, Drew," the larger man said, smirking. "But I will happily separate your teeth from your goddamn mouth."

The two men held each other's eyes. But as Winchester Colt Caffrey was by far the baddest motherfucker in the car, Drew wisely backed down.

"Where the hell are we anyway?" Win asked, peering into the darkness for a clue as to their whereabouts.

"Somewhere in the middle of Montana," Gunner answered. "A couple of hours outside of Billings."

Win glanced at his watch, announcing, "I'm gonna make a call." And before anyone could object, he was dialing.

"Hola, nena." His voice had lowered to a seductive whisper. "¿Cómo estás?"

Sergeant Win Caffrey grew up on the South Side of San Antonio, Texas, in a neighborhood so poor there were no paved roads, no electricity, and barely any potable water. He was the only half-white kid that lived there, and he got his ass handed to him every day because of it. And despite having married a Mexican-American, his drug dealer father told Win to toughen up, disgusted that his son would allow a bunch of 'wetbacks' to beat on him.

And beat on him, they did. For years.
Until Winchester hit puberty.

In one year, Win grew eight inches, ending up at six foot four, two-sixty with not an ounce of fat on him. But rather than join a gang and risk being shot on the mean streets of south San Antonio, Win sought his revenge on the football field.

He broke ribs, arms, and a leg of one of his particularly vicious tormentors. But Win did not stop there. Oh, no. He also had to fuck their girlfriends, aunts, and even a few of their mothers, which is undoubtedly where he acquired his affinity for gorgeous Latinas like the one he had on the phone.

You did not have to speak Spanish to understand the gist of the carnal conversation, prompting Drew to turn toward Gunner and say with his thickest Tennessee twang, "Seriously, I don't get paid to listen to this shit."

"Hang up," Gunner said, to the windshield.

"Tengo que irme. Adios, hermosa." Win ended the call, and with a satisfied grin, he looked over at Drew. "Jealous, amiguito?"

Drew rolled his eyes, and Gunner decided that now was as good a time as any to tell them the truth. He had to.

"Listen up," Gunner began, glancing at Drew and then at Win in the rear view mirror. "Sometimes we get ordered to do stuff we don't understand and we don't want to do."

Drew nodded and Win just stared at him, anticipating bad news.

"Our target yesterday, Catherine Miller…" Gunner sighed, barely able to believe it himself. "Catherine Miller is Ansel Babineaux's sister."

"Fuck!" Drew flicked the screen of his laptop closed with a resounding snap. He looked at Gunner, angry as he asked, "Are you fucking kidding me? They sent us after Ansel's sister." Drew was concerned for a myriad of reasons.

"What did she do?" Win asked, less worried about the wrath of Ansel Babineaux. "Or did
he
do something?"

"I don't know." Gunner shook his head, because it didn't make any sense. "I just received our orders yesterday morning with no explanation."

"Who from?" Drew asked.

"I have no idea. The orders came through our regular channels, and I confirmed them." Gunner paused, treading lightly. "But I don't think it's a coincidence that this General Hawkins comes into town and we get sent off on this mission." His men agreed with his assessment, and Gunner asked them, "Off the record?"

Win nodded, as did Drew, adding, "Sure, man. O'course."

"The question I need answered by you both is…What are we going to do about it?" Gunner wanted their input. Needed it if he was going to do this to a friend. His best friend, who had saved his life on more than one occasion.

"Ansel's sister?" Drew rubbed his forehead, before pulling his hand straight back over the top of his coppery head. "That's fucked up. I mean, what could the woman possibly have done to warrant this? And you know Ansel will go
off
the rails, and if he finds out it was us who took her…" Drew whistled, raising both his hand in surrender to the impossible situation. "We best watch our backs. Honest to God, sir. I don't know what we should do."

"What do you mean, you don't know what we should do?" Win was indignant, saying as if there were no other possible answer, "We're soldiers, and we have orders. We follow them. And if Ansel tries to stop us from taking our target, we stop him first."

If we can
. Because as ferocious as Win was in combat, Ansel was equally as accomplished at stealth. And if they killed Ansel's sister, they would never see him coming.

Fuck!

"We follow our orders," Gunner decided.

For now.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

It was dinnertime. And Gunner, or rather Gunner's cell phone, had stopped in Billings, Montana for what Ansel assumed was a bite to eat.

So, he decided that they should do the same. The pickup bounced over the deteriorating parking lot of a busy diner, which Ansel hoped was a good sign as to the quality of the food. He backed his old truck into a parking spot to allow for a hasty retreat, then threw it into park and turned over the key.

"You hungry?" Ansel asked, knowing that she was.

He had taken the wheel at a rest stop a few hours ago, and only after Seneca felt confident that he was not going to kill them by driving a hundred miles an hour. But it had been five hours since they had picked up sandwiches, and he was about to gnaw his own arm off.

"Oh my God, I'm starving," she said, hopping out of the truck before he could stop her.

Seneca was already opening the door to the diner and by the time he caught up to her, and a young woman in a light blue uniform was showing them to a table.

"This all right?" the girl asked him as she placed laminated menus on top of the Formica tabletop.

But it was not 'all right'.

"Can we have that booth?" The one in the corner, facing the door and out of a direct line of fire.

"You can sit where ever you want," the waitress said. And after they were settled, she asked, "Can I get you something to drink?"

The girl was looking at Ansel, but it was Seneca who answered, "I'll have a diet soda."

"And I'll have an iced tea," he said. And when the girl left Ansel sighed, relaxing for the first time today.

He reminded himself that his sister was safe in FBI custody, and that Gunner and his team had not gotten to her.

Yet.

He took a moment to call Dave, who confirmed that Gunner was still in Billings, stopped at a Hyatt Place hotel. Ansel closed his eyes, silently praying that the team would spend the night there so he could get some shut-eye.

"Let me know the second they move," he said to his brother-in-law, before hanging up and looking across the table at Seneca. "Gunner is at a hotel up the street. If he stays put, we'll spend the night there." Ansel pointed at the local hotel behind the diner.

"Oh, the Billings Roadside Inn looks lovely," Seneca quipped, and he was chuckling when their waitress returned with their drinks in two big red plastic cups.

"Here you go. Diet." A bit of soda sloshed out as the waitress set Seneca's drink on the table. "And an iced tea for you. Do you want something sweet?" the waitress asked, smiling pleasantly at Ansel.

"That'd be great, thanks."

The girl placed an assortment of sweeteners on the table, before asking him, "So, you from around here?"

"Nope, just passing through," Ansel answered, intentionally vague. But the waitress lingered, and he wondered when she was going to take their order.

"Oh. Well, Billings is real nice this time of year. You should stick around for a while. You got family in the area?"

She smiled down at him and Ansel was about to answer when Seneca reached over and held both of his hands, caressing them with her thumbs.

"My in-laws live in South Dakota, so we won't be staying here long."

The women just stared at each other, until the waitress said, "What can I get you?" to them both.

"I'll have a burger and fries." Seneca released his hands, picking up her menu and holding it up for the waitress to take.

"I'll have the same."

The waitress left and Seneca rolled her eyes, prompting him to ask, "What's the matter?"

"She was so rude."

"The waitress?" Ansel was confused. She had seated them, gotten drinks, and taken their order with a smile on her face and as quickly as humanly possible.

"Oh my God, Ansel," Seneca snorted. "The girl just eye-fucked you right in front of me."

"When?"

"Just now! Didn't you hear her advise you to—" Seneca make air quotes. "—'Stay in Billings for a while.' So she could sleep with you!"

"So you were protecting my virtue?" Ansel smiled, liking the way she had claimed him. "My loving wife." He reached out and grabbed her hands. When she tried to yank them away, he would not let her, holding them as firmly as he held her eyes, and asked, "How long have we been married?"

"Too long," Seneca yanked harder and he let her go, chuckling.

The waitress returned with their food, and Ansel gave the girl all of his attention, flirting with her as he said, "Thank you
so
much, this looks great." Just to annoy Seneca.

"No problem," the waitress responded, smiling at him seductively. "Can I get you anything else?"

"No. We'll call you if we need anything." Seneca glared at the girl, chasing her off before grabbing the ketchup and complaining to him. "I mean, I'm your wife and she comes on to you like that? Right in front of me." She shook her head, scoffing, "So damn rude."

Ansel laughed out loud then bit into his burger, enjoying his meal about as much as he was enjoying Seneca's irritation.  

***

Seneca finished her horrible burger, but she was still pissed. She certainly had no claim on Ansel. But surely, the fact that his sister set them up meant she had right of first refusal.

At least until the moment when Ansel dumped her, in favor of a leggy blond with fake tits. Glancing down at her flat chest, Seneca sucked on the straw of her empty soda.

"Do you want a refill?" Ansel asked.

Yes.
"No, I'm fine."

She would rather die than ask the slutty waitress for another one.

"Then let's head over to the hotel." Ansel placed forty bucks on the table then stood up, waiting for her to do the same.

Like a good husband, he escorted her out of the diner. And she could not help but smile at their waitress, saying, "Thank you so much," as the girl, and the entire female staff, watched Ansel’s fine ass walk out the door.

It was almost ten o'clock, and the diner parking lot was now completely deserted. She pulled her jacket around her neck, and shoved her hands deep in her pockets. The temperature seemed to have dropped ten degrees in the last hour, and she was looking forward to a hot shower and a warm bed.

But as they walked in silence over to the lobby of the old hotel, she didn't have high expectations for the place. Ansel held the door opened for her and as he registered for their rooms, she glanced around at signs announcing the grand reopening of the newly renovated Billings Roadside Inn.

"Okay, thanks," she heard Ansel say, and then they walked down the hall to the elevator. When they got in, he pushed the button for the second floor. The doors of the elevator scraped closed so, she was trapped when Ansel announced, "They only had one room left."

That hung in the air for an eternity and they both ignored it. Ignored his kissing her a few hours ago. Ignored her wanton response.

"Perfect," she mumbled to herself.

The elevator door hissed open, and Seneca jumped when she felt Ansel's hand at the small of her back. He was gently guiding her in the direction of their room, but the closer they got to it, the slower her steps became.

Trepidation hung around her neck and she could not shake it off. She didn't know if it was fear, lack of sleep, or the idea of being trapped alone with Ansel that made her so anxious.

Seneca watched as he slid the key into the security lock of their hotel room. And as she waited, she could not help compare this stay with last night's. Last night, Dave had been there. Last night, they had only stayed a few hours at the motel. Last night, they had not slept in their beds. The three of them had just sat at the table, discussing their plan for getting Catherine back.

But tonight they had to sleep, together, in the same bed.

The lock gave and Ansel swung the door open, holding it for her. Seneca stepped inside their temporary respite, pleasantly surprised by the modern décor. The Billings Roadside Inn had indeed been renovated. Their room was bright and airy, with a large flat-screen TV sitting opposite the one—and only—bed.

A queen size!

Damn, a queen sized bed was much smaller than she had remembered. And as if he had read her mind, Ansel set his computer bag on the small desk in the corner of the room, apologizing, "Like I said, this was all they had this late at night."

Seneca shrugged. "That's okay." Because what else could she say?

"If you don’t mind, I think I'll hop in the shower." Ansel pointed toward the bathroom door. "Unless you want to go first?"

"That's fine, you go ahead." No way in hell was she getting naked around him. "I'll take one later."

When he was asleep.

Ansel went into the bathroom and turned on the water, but she could hear him getting undressed.
Not a problem.
She would just sit here and watch television.

Seneca pushed the power button on the TV, and the program guide popped up. She heard the shower curtain slide open, then closed. Water splashed, and she imagined it cascading down his body.

His amazing, nude body.

Okay, a comedy would be good right now.
Distracting.

Seneca scrolled down her options, but she wasn't really paying attention. She was so focused on the sound of the shower. She stood up and grabbed the shopping bag from the truck stop in Spokane. They had not been able to get clothes from home when they fled, so they had gotten what they could at a huge truck stop.

Ansel got a T-shirt and pair of basketball shorts, but Seneca's options were much more limited. She finally settled on a small men's Seattle football T-shirt, and a box of winter fresh mints.

She popped a mint in her mouth and sucked on it as she watched TV. The channels scrolled down the screen, and when Seneca heard the water stop, so did she.

Her breathing grew shallow and she stared at the door, wondering how she would possibly make it through the night. The door opened. In an attempt to look bored, Seneca pushed the select button on the remote.

Feminine moans filled the room as a sex scene from a cable movie was just getting started. Ansel's eye went wide, and she crushed the TV guide button. But the sex scene was still playing as loud as ever, in the corner of the screen.

"Sorry," she said, her cheeks on fire.

"No,
I'm
sorry."

Confused, Seneca looked at him for the first time, and it was a big mistake. He was wearing the basketball shorts, and nothing else.

"If you want some privacy, I'll go back in the bathroom." 

His muscular chest and massive arms were not what got her. It was his grin. A lopsided, little grin that made her far from annoyed.

"I didn't mean to…select that channel," she explained. Badly. "It was on…that." Seneca grabbed her football t-shirt, and headed for the bathroom. "I'll just go change my shirt."

Ansel's dark brows furrowed as he stared down at her pants. "You're not going to sleep in your jeans, are you?"

"I don't have much choice." She scuttled past him, but he stopped her.

"Here," he held up his T-shirt. "You can wear mine. It's an extra-large, so it's probably longer than your nightgowns back home."

Tempted, Seneca stared at the T-shirt, thinking he was half right. She had tried all kinds of fancy nightgowns, but always ended up in a long T-shirt and nothing else.

Reaching up, she rubbed the sleeve of his big shirt between her thumb and forefinger. It would be so much more comfortable than sleeping in jeans, and she was so damn tired.

"Thank you." Seneca took the shirt. Needing to be far away from him, for as long as possible, she said, "I think I will take a shower." Before heading into the bathroom to do just that.

***

The door to the bathroom clicked closed, and Ansel hit himself in the forehead with the side of his fist.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he whispered, wondering what the hell he was thinking.

Ansel had just spent an extra ten minutes in the shower, because every time he thought about getting in bed with her, he got hard. And while basketball shorts are super comfortable, they are very unforgiving.

He wanted to call Dave, but it was not a good idea. They needed to be moving away from a dumped burner phone, not sleeping right next to it. So Ansel just sat there, listening to her take a shower in a stall he knew was big enough for two.

"Christ!"

Ansel yanked down the sheets on the side of the bed nearest the door and pulled out his gun. He laid it on the bedside table and got into bed, waiting for Seneca to stop washing that hot little body.

"Damn it." He punched his pillow, fluffing it, then shoved it under his head and closed his eyes.

He heard the bathroom door crack open, and so did his eyelids. Seneca stuck her head out of the bathroom door, saying, "Can you shut your eyes while I get in bed?"