Crossing Lines by Adrienne Giordano

27

Shane slida sideways glance at Trev and then back to Alfaro. The two men took part in a vicious stare down that sent warning flares firing.

Did they know each other?

The big guy moved again and Shane aimed his weapon center mass. The two of them stood, guns trained on each other.

“Shoot him,” Alfaro said.

“If he does,” Trev said, “you’ll be dead in less than a second.”

For emphasis, a red dot from Trev’s weapon appeared on Alfaro’s head.

“Well, well, well.” Alfaro held his arms wide. “Aren’t you the loyal friend?”

“Fuck you,” Trevor said.

Whoa. What the hell?

Alfaro made a show of dragging his focus from Trev — total dismissal — to Shane. “Ask him how I found her.”

Nice try, pal.This guy was a master manipulator. Shane knew this, had spent enough time in Venezuela to have seen it himself. And he wasn’t about to be played.

“He’s messing with you,” Faith said.

“No.” Alfaro said. “He’s not.” He pinned Trev with a hard stare. “Shall I tell him? Or will you?”

The distant sound of a siren knocked Shane into action. Whatever kind of bullshit play this was, they didn’t have time for it. They needed to get the hell out of here.

“Ah,” Alfaro tipped his head up. “My people are here. Excellent. I’ll have you all thrown in prison. Just like my son.” He gave Faith, still half hidden behind Shane, the once-over. “Imagine what a woman like you would be worth in prison.”

He turned to the big guy and laughed. “This is brilliant. It’s all coming together, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Alfaro came back to Faith and Shane. “Go ahead. Ask your friend, Trevor, how I found you.”

And hold up here. Had anyone said Trevor’s name?

A flash of light drew Alfaro’s attention to an SUV driving around the last row of containers. Probably his driver — Reynaldo? — checking on the situation after the blast.

Boom!

Shane whipped to Trevor, who’d just fired. What the hell was he thinking?

The shot hit a stunned Alfaro dead center in his chest, knocking him back a full step. His mouth dropped open, his hands going to the hole between his ribs and then he let out a wet, gurgling sound before he collapsed to the ground.

Shit, shit, shit.

The big guy flinched, swinging his weapon to Trev, his finger sliding over the trigger and pulling back.

Shane fired. Three quick shots. Pop, pop, pop.

A mix of screams and gunshots filled his head and his brain roared, the panic swarming him as the big guy hit the ground.

The remaining guard brought his weapon up, aiming at Shane. This was it. Over. He’d die in Venezuela and his mother would never know. Dammit, everything he had tried to avoid.

Faith.Right behind him.

He turned and shoved her sideways.

Boom, boom, boom.

Another three shots sounded. Who’s firing, who’s firing, who’s firing?

The guard’s eyes got huge and — boom! — he got a shot off and Shane’s heart nearly exploded from the blood plowing through it. The bullet whizzed by his left ear just as the guard dropped to a heap on the ground.

Faith charged at Trevor, on the ground, but levering to his feet. Blood soaked the upper sleeve of his T-shirt and Faith put her hands on his waist, steadying him.

“We have to go,” she said. “That’s Rey in the SUV.”

“No,” Shane said, rushing to Alfaro still gurgling on the ground. He aimed his gun. “You’re dying. I’ll end it for you. Tell me.”

“Jesus!” Dusty said, running up behind the crumpled guard. “What are we standing around for?”

“Trevor knows something,” Shane said.

“What?”

“Shane, it’s bullshit.” This from Trevor, his voice rising.

Panic.

Alfaro coughed and a spurt of blood dribbled out of his mouth. “Not bullshit. He sacrificed you. Saved himself.”

Cough, cough.

The son of a bitch was dying. Dammit. “Tell me. Saved himself how?”

“The cartel. Lifted the bounty.”

He peered up at Shane, his gaze holding and that smug smile Shane remembered slid into place. “In exchange for her.”

Alfaro closed his eyes and an ugly, phlegm-filled wheeze left him. His body went quiet.

No movement.

Red flashes lit the sky and sirens came closer. The SUV’s horn blared.

“Shane,” Faith said. “Please. We need to get out of here.”

Not yet. Not before he had answers. He faced Trevor. “Your bullet is in the president of Venezuela. Tell me what you did or I swear to God, I’ll leave you here. We’ll get into that SUV and leave you.”

Trev’s gaze bounced to Dusty, Faith, and Alfaro before finally coming back to Shane.

“They’re coming,” Shane told him. “And I’m pissed enough to let them at you. If you didn’t do it, how did he know your cover name?”

Dusty stepped up next to him. “Come on, Shane. This is crap. It’s Trevor. He wouldn’t do it.”

“All this time, I was trying to figure out how he found her so quick. I knew we had a leak. Knew it! I was blaming Sullivan. But the Challenger. That’s been bugging me. How the hell did Brutus know where we were? Think about it. Sullivan had no way of knowing. The only people who could possibly know our exact location were the four of us. You and Trev? You two can track my phone.”

That stopped Dusty cold. His head whipped to Trevor. “Dude, please. Tell him you didn’t do it so we can get the fuck out of here.”

The SUVs horn honked again, this time a long blare. “That’s it.” Shane reached for Faith’s hand. “Let’s go. Leave him here.”

He headed for the SUV, eating up the ground with long strides that forced Faith to triple-time her steps.

“You can’t leave him,” she said.

“I never sold you out!”

Shane halted. Now they were getting somewhere. He turned and marched back, jabbing his finger. “You fucker. What’d you do?”

Trevor reached up, pulled his soaked sleeve from the bullet wound and winced. “Ah, Jesus.” He peered back at Shane. “She was blowing everything. Bringing heat on all of us. I wanted her gone.”

“And what? You made a deal for your freedom?”

“Yeah. Why not? I mean, if I could get my life back? You’d have done it.”

“Trev,” Dusty breathed, the shock evident in his soft tone. “What the fuck? We were a team.”

Shane stood, half stunned and half—hell, he didn’t know. All he knew was that betrayal was an evil bitch that wormed around, chewing up what was left inside him. His ability to trust. To hope for normal relationships. To believe that one day he’d live paranoia-free.

For whatever fucked-up reason his mind went to Andres. The man Shane had betrayed in service of his country. Could this be what Andres had felt?

His stomach twisted. Trevor. How did I miss it?

Shane shook his head, pushed his shoulders back. “No. I wouldn’t have done it. We had each other. That was it. That meant something to me.”

“Shane, please. I never told him about you. Just her. I told him she had a boyfriend who owned a bar. You weren’t supposed to be there that early!”

“That’s why he set the fire?”

“It was a warning. You weren’t supposed to be there.”

Now, rage took hold, swarming the last of Shane’s calm. This was his friend.

He took two steps, his fist ready to do some major damage. After everything he’d done for his so-called friend.

Faith jumped in front of him, body blocking him as she shoved him back. “No. We’re not doing this. Let’s go.”

“It was working,” Trevor said. “Alfaro had no idea it was you.”

Faith shoved him back again. “He’s right.”

Now she was taking his side?

He glared at her and she lifted her hands from his chest, holding them up. “I’m not defending him, but it’s true. Alfaro didn’t know who you were until you called him. He was stunned. After he hung up, he damn near peed himself he was so happy. Now, can we please go before Rey leaves all of us here?”

Shane went back to Trevor. “Tell me about the deal.”

Trevor’s head swung back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

“You’ve got three seconds or I swear to God, I will leave you here.”

“I got word to Alfaro that I knew where the woman who killed his son was. Told him if he could get the cartel to lift the bounty on my head, I’d tell him. He went for it. That’s how he found her so fast. I saw an opportunity, Shane, and I took it.”

“I guess you did. It didn’t matter that Dusty and I were at risk? All you cared about was yourself.”

“I thought I could keep you and D out of it. Then we’d go back to business as usual.”

Business as usual. Shane shook his head. “Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought.” He turned, headed for the SUV. “I’ll get you back to Chicago, but then we’re done. Don’t come near me again.”

Hours later,Shane sat in his seat on the C-17 Sully had managed to get them a ride home on, with Faith asleep beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. Rest, he knew, hadn’t come easy for her lately. Now? With an entire SEAL team having completed their mission and on board, she’d gone out like a light.

After this, hopefully, they’d both sleep for days.

Two seats down, Dusty snored like a freight train. As dog-tired as Shane felt, his mind wouldn’t stop spinning, leaving his body to suffer the wrath.

Everything he thought he knew about his life and the people in it had been turned upside down.

Voices from his left drew his attention to where a couple of the SEALs shared a beer. Whatever their mission had been, they’d obviously succeeded. A woman in jeans and a black button-down, who’d introduced herself as Cheryl when they’d first seen her at the base, broke away from the group, a bottle in each hand.

When they’d met, she hadn’t given him details, but he figured her for CIA. Probably an operations officer assigned to whatever mission the team had just completed.

And, damn, he hoped one of those bottles she carried was for him.

On her approach, she eyed Dusty, her gaze holding a few seconds before meeting Shane’s.

She halted in front of him and — bless her — held one of the beers out to him.

He nodded. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” She remained standing, glancing at Faith, then back to Shane. “How are y’all doing?”

Southern accent. Barely there, but there. Carolinas maybe.

“A whole lot better now. Thank you for the ride home.”

He lifted the bottle, took a long pull that hit his stomach and turned sour. He was so emotionally jacked up he couldn’t enjoy a beer.

“You’re welcome,” Cheryl said. “Thought I’d brief you. If you’re interested.”

Oh, he was interested. “That’d be good.”

“As you know, Alfaro is dead. The other two guards as well. From what we gathered, the one in uniform worked at the palace.”

“And the other?”

“He wasn’t on staff. We believe he worked for the Liborio Cartel. We got a hit on facial recognition.”

“Where’s Reynaldo?”

“Still at the base. He’ll be taken care of.”

“Forgive me if I’m skeptical.”

At that, she smiled, but there was zero humor in it. “I get it. Believe me. But he’s a treasure trove of information. I promise you, he’ll be safe.” She nudged her chin at Faith. “I know what happened to her. Completely unfair.”

“It was.”

“I also just received word on Trevor Hutchins. He’s out of surgery. Bullet was lodged against the humerus. They took it out. He should be fine.”

Shane closed his eyes. It was good, he supposed, that Trev would be all right. No matter the stab of anger and betrayal assaulting him, they had history together.

He’d trusted him. And with so few people in his life, he wasn’t sure how to process this godforsaken mess.

All he knew was that anything Trevor had been to him, anything he had felt, was now gone. And that would take a long time to get over.

He opened his eyes, met Cheryl’s gaze. “Thanks for the update. What’s the spin on Alfaro’s death?”

She shrugged. “There’s enough linking him to the Liborios that we’ll pin it on them.”

“They’re already one of the most feared cartels. They’ll be delirious if the world thinks they murdered the president of Venezuela.”

“Exactly.”

“Messy though.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She held up her beer. “Thank you for your service. Hopefully, the future will be better now.”

The future.

With Alfaro dead, maybe Shane could ease up on the covert shit. Life as Bobby MacGregor probably wasn’t possible since he’d built a business as Shane Quinn. But with Alfaro out of power and his only surviving son in prison, anyone who feared that family would be free.

“With Alfaro dead, how long do you think it’ll take for Andres to wind up with a shiv in his heart?”

“If he lives twenty-four hours, it’ll be a miracle.”

Without his father offering favors or guarantees, Andres would be considered a liability. The cartels wouldn’t risk him talking, revealing secrets to save himself.

Shane shook his head. What a life.

One of the SEALs hovering over a laptop atop a stack of trunks hollered for Cheryl.

“Duty calls.”

Back to the business of saving the world. Good for her.

Beside him, Faith shifted, then winced, her eyes popping open. She stared straight up at him, blinking a few times, clearly getting her bearings.

“Hey,” he said. “We’re still in the air.”

She nodded, then lifted her head, massaging her neck. “I hate sleeping on planes. How long was I asleep?”

“Couple hours.”

Her head lopped forward. “Seriously?”

He laughed. “Seriously. Guess you were tired.”

“Wow. Have you slept?”

“Nope. Too hopped up.”

She pointed at the beer he’d somehow forgotten about. “Can I have some of that?”

He handed over the bottle. “Cheryl just updated me, if you’re ready to hear it.”

After taking a slug from the bottle, she held it up. “Fire away.”

He gave her every detail. The Liborio cartel, Andres’s chance of surviving. Trevor. Reynaldo.

All of it sucked. No question. But with each word, answering each of Faith’s questions, his body relaxed. As if his mind had finally wrapped itself around the idea of freedom. Of the Alfaro nightmare being over.

Could it be? Seriously?

“It feels weird,” Faith said.

“What?”

She shrugged. “I’m . . . I don’t know . . . relieved? Hopeful? Normal people shouldn’t be hopeful after all that.”

“We’re not normal.”

“Ha. True.”

She took another sip of his beer, handed it back to him and he tucked it on the seat between his legs. For a guy who liked his beer, he wasn’t interested.

“What will you do about Trevor? He’ll probably contact you.”

“I’m done with him. Can’t trust him.”

“How does Dusty feel?”

“The same. We both want to get back to Chicago and pick up our lives again. I need to get the bar opened.”

She peered up at him. “And then what?”

“Haven’t thought that far.”

“You could call your parents, finally.”

Yeah. He could definitely do that. “That would be good.”

He thought about that first bite of his mother’s brownies. Damn, that’d be a fine moment.

Brownie fantasy firmly in place, he peered over at Faith. “The bigger question is what will you do?”

Shane’s questionhung in the air. Faith had thought about it a lot in the last twenty-four hours. Could it be that it was only a day ago that she’d left Chicago, intent on winning Shane his freedom?

Now, she had hers too.

She tipped her head up, kissed his cheek. “It depends on you.”

“Nope. This is about you and what you want.”

She thought about that a second. For the first time — ever — she got to decide her next steps. No one telling her where to go or who to be. Just her, figuring it out.

“That’s a concept,” she said.

“You could go back to being Liz Aiken.”

Liz. The warrior. The one who’d fought for every damned thing she’d ever had. The one afraid to get attached to anyone or anything.

Why would she want to go back to that?

She sat up, shifted to face him. “I think I’ll stay Faith. Liz’s life wasn’t so great. Faith has potential. Does that sound crazy? Considering I’m Liz and Faith.”

“It doesn’t. I won’t ever be Bobby MacGregor again. I’m Shane now. It’s a coping thing. A way to leave all the emotional crap behind.”

Yes. He understood. “I was thinking, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to stay in Chicago. I have a job, a cute little apartment.” She poked his arm. “You’re there. And, you know, I kinda like you.”

He gave her a flashing smile that ignited something inside her. When they got back, the things she’d do to him. In her apartment. In her bed.

“Does that smile mean you’re agreeable to the idea?”

“Oh,” he said, “I’m agreeable.”

“We could start over. Maybe take a ride on the Ferris wheel again.”

“Yep. It’ll be our first date.”

She sat back, slipped her hand in his, entwining their fingers. “I’d like a date with you. I’d like it a lot.”