I’m ready.
When a twig snaps, I stop in my tracks. Two hundred feet to the south, a guide leads two adults carrying two preschoolers. Their thin coats and wet sneakers say much about their finances. I am after predators, not prey, so let them pass.
Quiet again, I stick one of my miniature cameras high up in the bark of a maple tree. Moving deeper into the woods, I walk parallel to the deer trail. About thirty minutes later, Farsi mixed with Québécois floats on the breeze.
Soon, three men come into view. No wonder Bourdin ran off. He had two Persians to escort over the border.
While he leads, one of the men points. If my translation is accurate, he said, “We should kill him when this is all over.”
“Silence. Allons-y.” The pedophile from the restaurant waves them forward.
The urge to arrest him consumes me, but I tamp it down. If I show my cards now, I may never learn their agenda. I follow them to their car, copy the license plate, and return to my hotel. Once I’ve removed my outerwear, I call Axel and describe everything I have seen in the woods to date.
My former task leader chuckles. “How many undocumented did you see? You still have toes if you need to count higher.”
“You’re a fucking riot. Listen, as much as I love our little tête-à-tête, I wanted to run something else by you.” I explain how Bourdin walked up to our table, threatened Border Agent O’Malley’s kid, and how she did nothing to stop him other than telling me I couldn’t take him outside to teach him some manners.
Axel sighs. “Well, the way I figure, you have two choices. One, you put up your cameras, estimate the traffic over the border, then come home. Your second option is to investigate. If you choose door number two, don’t tell Hornsby.”
“Why not?” My gut clenches.
“We’ve pissed off Canada—cozied up to Russia, who happens to be in bed with Iran. You were told to tally up undocumented aliens. So, officially, that is what you do. Keep in touch.”
Shit, shit, shit. I jump under the covers, fully intending to get some sleep. Around three in the morning, college kids slam doors, shout, and carry on. Of course, my thoughts turn to the sexy border patrol agent. Damn that woman. Damn her kiss. In the bathroom, I grab my cock to relieve the pressure. Only then am I finally able to rest.
Chapter 8
Kelly
After dropping Hunt off at the garage, I drive home. When Mackenzie’s breathing becomes steady, I snatch my pillow, reset the alarm codes, and stash my gun under the sofa.
For hours, I stare at the ceiling.What the hell was up with the kiss, gram? Why did it affect me so?
Her voice responds in my head,He protected you, sweetheart. It’s not so hard to understand.
What am I going to do about John Bourdin? He sent a clear message to stay out of his business. How can I avoid him with Mister Fucking Wildlife, putting up cameras all over the place?
Argh! I punch my pillow. Why is my stupid life so difficult? And why does Ranger Gurion need to be so damn attractive?
At times like these, I always relied on Robert. I try his cell phone. As before, it goes straight to voice mail. Surely, he’s had all the time off he needs. For chrissakes, he’s retiring in a few months.
This thought sends me down another rabbit hole of dread. Without him playing interference, Bourdin will feel free to bully me more.
Reaching beneath the couch, I find comfort in the pistol’s cold steel. If that coyote tries to break in, he’s in for a surprise. This mama bear will protect her cub. But what about when she’s at her father’s house? Or at school? If anything should happen to her…
Dammit. No paycheck is worth this stress. Images of The Incident clang against the sides of my mental box, trying to break free. I squeeze my eyes as I force them back. The hingescrack. It doesn’t take a psychiatrist to know I’m on the verge of an emotional breakdown.
In desperation, I turn my thoughts to Jack Gurion’s kiss. In my dream, he takes me home, undresses me, and worships my body. While he pistons inside me, someone pounds on the front door. Grabbing my service weapon, I bolt onto my feet, squinting into the bright morning light.
Where am I?
Mouth full of toothpaste, my daughter walks down the hall. “Mom! What is wrong with you?”
Her eyes widen as she glares, snapping me awake from my sleepy state.Holy fuck, I’m officially the shittiest parent in the history of humankind.
“Sorry, honey.” Shaking all over, I lay my weapon on the coffee table.
Meanwhile, she spreads the curtains. “It’s him, the hottie. He’s at the door. Gonna open it?”
