Rising Hope by Edie James

21

Even on a Tuesday night,the roadhouse outside of town was hopping. Whether it was the discount appetizers, the high-energy DJ spinning tunes for the karaoke crowd, or the cheap booze, the place was a mad house. No more so than the two other bars they’d already stopped into.

Enzo hunkered into his spot at the minuscule table and tried not to glare at Sarah. It wasn’t her fault he’d been ordered to escort her around town for the next few evenings, acting as a kind of high visibility bodyguard.

He’d been planning to decline the order. His team was on duty Wednesday night, but someone on the interagency taskforce must have made a call to his CO. The next thing he knew, Commander Paulson shot him a message freeing him from regular duty until the undercover mission was completed.

And after Halliburton and his CO had promised he wouldn’t be involved in any operations in The Cove.

Sarah, in full Peaches Duvall regalia, leaned close. With her golden hair teased high up on her head, she looked like a wannabe starlet. “Sorry,” she said, sliding their untouched drinks toward the outside of the table. “I know this isn’t your scene.”

“Nope.”  He flinched as the big-bellied guy currently clutching the microphone started belting out a classic Beetles tune. His ears would never be the same.

“This wasn’t part of the agreement,” Enzo said, practically having to shout over the wall of noise.

With a final wail, and a nasty blast of reverb from the mike, the music stopped. For the moment.

“I know,” Sarah acknowledged with a glance at the empty stage. “The team directors thought Peaches should be seen flashing money around town while we wait to hear back from the cartel. I’m sure Halliburton had something to do with this. He enjoys torturing me.”

“What’s his deal?”

She ran a finger around the rim of her glass. “What can I say? He’s just a miserable person.”

Enzo shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The floor was sticky underfoot. Spilled alcohol, from the smell, long dried, and lots of it. He sighed. No one he knew frequented bars like Macy’s Roadhouse, but people who knew his family probably did.

He was going to get an earful for sure.

Her expression unsettlingly pert, she patted his arm. “I’m going to spread a little more cash around, then we can leave. You just sit here and glower.”

Yeah. Maybe he would.

Practically wiggling with energy, Sarah made her way toward the stage, drawing the eye of every man in the room. He marveled at her acting abilities. He’d never been good at hiding his feelings. Probably why he avoided poker.

She was a master. While he watched, she laughed with a group of sunburned men in trucker hats, then stuffed a wad of bills in the tip jar on the DJs platform before slipping back through the crowd. “Let’s jet.”

He shot to his feet, trying not to run her over as they slipped outside.

She waggled her phone at him as they crossed the parking lot to her snappy car. “We just got confirmation that the cartel’s willing to do the big sale.” She grinned, her teeth white under the streetlights. “This is it.”

“Then we’re done?” he asked.

“Yup.”

“When?”

“Thursday afternoon.”

He scanned the crowded parking lot, but the only noise came from inside the packed bar. “So we can stop with the pub-crawling?”

She nodded, stuffing her phone in her oversized purse. “Halliburton wants to talk us through the plan,” she said. “Might as well do that now.”

“Roger that.” He lifted a quick prayer of thanks and poured himself into the low-slung vehicle.

He piloted the sports car back into the Terraces, enjoying the way the powerful car handled. Might as well enjoy something about this mission.

His stomach roiled when he imagined what his family would think about him squiring a woman like Peaches Duvall around town. But then he realized, they were almost done. By the time his sibs grilled him—and they would—he’d be able to tell them the truth.

He waited until they were in sight of the turnoff to her neighborhood before he told her about Wenmark. “I found nothing,” he admitted. “He’s not on the duty roster at his station, but that would make sense if he just had surgery. The base doc won’t clear him for flight for a while.”

Even in the dim light cast by the instrument panel, he caught her shudder.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Better that you don’t dig any deeper. The mission’s almost over. We don’t want to raise any eyebrows now.”

Exactly what he thought. There had to be a plausible explanation. Military aviators didn’t just disappear. Maybe the guy had family far away and headed off to convalesce. Lots of people liked to stay under the radar. No crime in that.

Still, the whole thing had gotten under his skin now. Once this was over, he’d have Rollo dig deeper.

He pulled up to the beach house. It looked even more extraordinary the second time. Enzo tried not to be impressed as he parked in the driveway and stepped out of the car.

The air smelled salty and sweet, like the promise of summertime. He could hear waves crashing against the shoreline.

Sarah beat him to the door and entered her code into the security keypad next to it. He followed her inside, trailing her around the house while she checked all windows and doors for any signs of forced entry. Security sweep complete, she led him back into the living room and settled on the couch, her laptop open on the coffee table.

Sarah dug into her purse, pulling out her phone and setting it on the table, then fired up her computer. By the time Enzo sat down next to her, Halliburton appeared onscreen.

His usual, not-charming self, the man launched into a description of the latest plan for the buy. “We’ll play this the same way as the other three,” he told them. “Just you and Lieutenant MacKenzie. We don’t want to spook these guys.”

Enzo bit back a retort. What was with the royal “we”? It would be him and Sarah facing down a mess of Russian thugs. Halliburton would be safe in his secret FBI lair, watching a video feed.

“What about backup?” he asked. Between the NSA, the FBI, and whatever other government agency was involved here, there had to be a team in the shadows, ready to deploy.

Halliburton shook his head dismissively. “No can do. Ulrich hasn’t revealed the meeting place yet. Right, Walker?”

Sarah nodded guiltily. “They’ll make sure we only get the info in time to show up. There won’t be time to insert a team.”

Well great. Enzo could handle himself in a brawl, but he had no illusions that he could do any good against cartel enforcers with automatic weapons.

“How do we record the transaction?” Sarah asked. “They sweep us for bugs every time.”

“We’ve got that handled,” Halliburton said. “The helicopter will be fitted with recording devices. Audio and video. The NSA technicians will be on it tomorrow at first light. The devices will be indistinguishable from the background electrical devices it already carries.”

She gave Enzo a long look, as if to ask what he thought.

“That makes sense.” He didn’t figure he’d agree with Halliburton about much of anything, but this part of the Special Agent’s plan seemed solid.

The Eurocopter was a modern machine, outfitted with the latest in radar, sonar and GPS technologies, all of which gave off constant electrical signatures. “If we get close enough,” he added.

“This stuff’s the best of the best,” Halliburton assured them. “As long as you’re within fifty feet of the aircraft, we’ll see and hear everything. This time, Yeltzen’s going down.”

“That’s doable,” Enzo assured Sarah.

She nodded, moving a hair sprayed hank of hair out of one eye. ”So once we deliver the drugs and the evidence to Panetta and Munson, how long before you make the arrests?”

A good question. Enzo was beginning to realize this op had way too many moving parts. If the gang caught wind the arrests were imminent, the power players would disappear. It wasn’t a stretch to think they’d put out a hit on him and Sarah, too. Sarah might be hard to find, but his identity was hanging out there.

He leaned in, staring Halliburton down over the screen.

But the skinny agent just rolled his eyes. “Not your concern.”

Enzo felt Sarah tense next to him. “Same old Nels. This need-to-know garbage didn’t work in Miami, and it’s not going to work now. Someone’s going to get killed.”

Halliburton waved dismissively. “Whatever. The details are way over your head, Walker.”

Enzo clamped down on the urge to hit the screen.

The tension thickened as Sarah glared at Halliburton. “Nels, you’re an idiot.”

The agent’s eyes widened, and his face tightened in anger. He leaned closer to the camera. “You know what? This conversation is over. Do your jobs and you’ll get out of this in one piece.” He slammed his laptop shut, cutting off the feed.

“He doesn’t like you much,” Enzo observed.

She smiled sourly. “Feeling’s mutual.”

“Because?” He tried to draw her out.

Sarah had gotten under his skin. He wanted to know how she thought, what she dreamed about at night. Everything. Given her aversion to sharing, he’d have to settle for crumbs. He’d take them. Gladly.

She ignored his question, crossing to the big picture windows overlooking the ocean. She folded her arms over her chest and pressed her forehead to the glass. “I’m going to miss this view.”

She could stay.

The idea made his heart leap, which shocked him. They hadn’t exactly gotten off on the right foot. She clearly found him too cautious, and boring. And he’d made no secret of the fact that he thought she was rash, too much of a loner for his taste.

But he’d come to revise his opinion. No, not so much revise it as add to it. She was rash, and distrusting, but she was also a dedicated agent, and, when she wasn’t channeling a spoiled amoral housewife, she had a charming side to her.

The Cove was a healing place. It drew people in. Nurtured them. He couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

Not that she’d agree. Really, he hardly knew a thing about her. Maybe city life appealed to her. Or deserts. Maybe she liked rock climbing or played classical violin. About the only thing he did know was she hated flying, and she was one of the bravest, most headstrong people he’d ever met.

And one of the loneliest.

He lifted a prayer to his Maker, wanting Sarah to find her own best life, but knowing he hadn’t the faintest idea what that was.