The Fugitive's Secret Child. Geri Krotow
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don’t suppose you have ID?” She’d never had to guess at whether she was taking in a good guy or not. They’d always been bad guys.
“You’re kidding me, right? Look at me. I’ve had the crap knocked out of me.” The harsh words softened with a tone she’d thought was only for her. It was the same method Justin had used to convince her his tactic was best.
She was going to put in for two weeks’ leave the minute she was back at headquarters. Mental health preventive. Because she had to be losing it. Right here, in the middle of what was supposed to be a routine apprehension.
More gunfire and a cloud of what she assumed was tear gas poured from the crack under the door. Once again she tried to stare him down, make him flinch. “Can you run?”
Rob nodded once, his hands still high.
“Follow me.”
She ran not away from the building, but toward it, and she sensed his hesitation, his desire to run in the opposite direction. When she held up the key she’d hid in her pocket and pointed at the ATV she was headed for, he followed.
As they ran, the puppy loped alongside her. “Buddy, there’s no room at the inn. Go home!” She spoke under her breath as she ran, shooing away the too-cute creature. Robert Bristol needed a quick ride out of here, and she intended to keep them both alive while doing it.
This was the craziest apprehension she’d ever had, especially since she wasn’t leaving with her target but a stranger her mind thought was Justin. And now a puppy was trying to join them. As if it were all some kind of fun escapade and not life-and-death circumstances. They came up to the first ATV and she faced the gaunt man, her Justin-come-to-life, ready to put her weapon on him again if she had to.
“Raise your hands again.” She looked him in the eyes and faltered. Blinked. What the hell was wrong with her? Justin was dead. This man who looked like the one man she would have ever been willing to sacrifice everything for had to be a genetic anomaly. He couldn’t be Justin. Justin was dead. Killed—in action in a war-torn Middle Eastern country during a civil war—five years ago tomorrow. A date etched in her mind but seared on her heart. The part that had never healed.
The eye that wasn’t swollen widened, and she ignored the screaming of her subconscious. So the doppelgänger had the same eye color.
“Who are you?”
He didn’t say anything. With no fanfare she patted him down more intensely this time, noting again that he was clean of any weapons. He’d sustained several bruises and a possible fracture on his ulna. Yet he still held his arm up. His muscles were tight under his dirty olive T-shirt and cargo pants, but that wasn’t her problem. Or advantage. His ass, at once familiar and strange, could solve her obvious mental stress. Justin had had a tattoo on his butt. Certainly this man did not.
She forced herself to not try to find said tattoo and straightened. She looked him in his good eye. “Mess with me and I’ll kill you. Got it?”
“Roger.”
Gunshots erupted again, and this time they were followed by the sounds of footsteps outside the building. Three men had emerged from the structure, but Trina didn’t wait to ID them. She had her man and she had wheels. Time to make their escape.
The puppy’s whimper tugged at the part of her that had nothing to do with being a hardened US marshal. Huge, liquid-chocolate-brown eyes pleaded for her mercy as he sat at her feet.
“Damn it.” Trina reached down and grabbed the pup and handed him to the man named Rob. “Here. Keep him between us. Use your good arm to hang on to me. Get on.”
The puppy seemed to sense this was for the best as he settled without fanfare between Trina and her captive. Rob Bristol reached his good arm loosely around her middle, keeping the puppy safe on the seat. The tiny sparks she imagined dancing on her skin weren’t any kind of awareness; she simply noticed that his fingers brushed her waist. He’s probably a criminal anyway, not a government agent or LEA.
And he wasn’t, couldn’t possibly be, Justin, no matter how many times she’d fantasized that Justin had somehow survived that secret mission all those years ago. They’d never recovered his body, though. That had always haunted her.
“Hang on.” It was her only warning before she gunned the engine, zigzagging over the road she’d memorized, and aimed for the main highway. One thing she knew about bad guys, they usually didn’t like to travel during the day on a major thoroughfare. Too risky. If she could get herself and this unknown-government-agency-dude there, they’d be in the clear.
He kept his arm around her waist, holding more tightly on the bumpy patches, remaining silent save for an occasional unintelligible murmur. Groans of pain, she guessed.
All she had to do was get them to the car, move the branches out of the way, and drive out of here. If she was taking him to Harrisburg, she’d make the most of the few hours’ drive. Trina had a lot of questions for this man once they were free of their pursuers.
* * *
“Ma’am, the US marshal from the Harrisburg office is on line one.” The Trail Hikers receptionist’s voice came over Claudia’s computer speaker.
“Thanks, Jessica.” Trail Hikers agency Director Claudia Michele pressed the key that put the secure, encrypted call through. A retired US Marine Corps two-star general, Claudia thrived on live ops and knew her agents were the best in the world. She trusted that Corey from the US Marshals had followed through and one of his team had managed to get Rob out of the ROC op gone wrong.
“Hi, Corey. I hope you have good news.”
“Absolutely. My marshal reports that she’s got a man who says his name is Rob Bristol, but won’t say who he works for. That sound about right, General?” Corey and the US Marshals as a whole weren’t privy to what Trail Hikers was all about, but like other LEAs in the area he had been told enough to be able to help out Claudia when one of her agents was at risk. She’d gone straight to Corey when she’d found out he had two marshals already in the area.
Claudia sat up straight. “Yes, that’s him. Where did she run into him?”
She listened as Corey related the details of his marshal’s situation, and as he spoke she worked on her computer, finding the affirmation she needed. There’d been no word from Rob since earlier today, and it wasn’t because he’d lost comms due to weather or gear failure. He’d been taken by the notorious ROC member Yuri Vasin, if what Corey relayed was correct.
Claudia started to tell Corey to have his marshal go to a location where another TH agent would get Rob. Then she stopped, remembering the reason Rob had moved to Silver Valley, temporarily.
“Corey, do you mind telling me the name of your marshal?”
“Lopez. Trina Lopez.”
Claudia had to stifle a long whistle, an old Marine Corps habit. She knew all there was to know about her agents—it was part and parcel of hiring someone to be a Trail Hiker. As much as she wanted to see Rob put his old demons to rest, she would have never picked a live firefight as the time to do so.
“Tell you what, Corey. As long as Rob is good to go for now, without medical attention, have her bring him back to Harrisburg. We’ll arrange for a pickup from your office. If he needs medical assistance, have them either call in or go to the Lehigh Valley medical center in Allentown. We have a special team there for this type of circumstance.”
“Will do. I have another marshal in the area but I’ve called him off. In light of your man’s appearance, the fewer eyes on him the better, I figure.”
“You’re absolutely right.” Claudia finished working out details with Corey and then disconnected the call. Rob wasn’t going to be happy he’d run into Trina in this manner, but sometimes fate nudged things along. She knew that firsthand from her working relationship with Silver Valley PD’s chief, Colt Todd. What had started as a business connection turned into much more