Spread Your Wings: Men in Blue, Book 4 (26 page)

“We’ll figure it out. Why don’t you close your eyes for a little bit?” Matt encouraged her to rest. When she snuggled into Clint’s side and peeked at the gadget in his lap, she groaned. Three hours to go before they reached even the outskirts of John’s property.

Maybe it would be for the best if she checked out for a bit.

“Sweet dreams.” Clint kissed her forehead as she yawned.

“Naughty ones too,” Matt added, caressing the inside of her knee before he put both hands back on the wheel.

“Are we stopping for gas?” Jambrea mumbled, checking her chin for drool as she sat up and squinted into the late afternoon sunshine.

“Nah. You slept right through that. There are a couple bottles of water and some snacks over there if you’re hungry.” Matt smiled at her as he stretched, lifting his arms as far above his head as he could in the confined space. “We’re about a mile down the road from the address Lucas gave us. Pulled over to get ourselves together before approaching. Since we’re not sure what to expect.”

“Pretty certain it won’t be an open-armed welcome.” Clint took her hand in his. “Are you ready for this?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” She blinked, trying to clear the fog from her mind. She’d had bizarre dreams. Of John calling to her from the top of a grass-covered knoll, leaning against a giant oak tree in a place she’d never seen before. Of Matt and Clint, changing their minds and breaking her heart. Or, worse yet, of the partners being hurt on the job. The funeral she’d attended for Lacey’s brother Rob, one of the Men in Blue who’d been murdered in the line of duty, had blurred and melted into a horror reel about a similar service for her guys.

She shuddered.

As if reality wasn’t bad enough. She peered at the woods around them. It was far too easy to envision their hunters hiding behind every tree.

“If you’re not up to it, we’ll take you away. Find somewhere safe to hide until the squad can come check this place out.” Matt didn’t hesitate, but they all knew if things were as they appeared, only Jambrea would be allowed inside John’s family complex.

And maybe not even her.

They were gambling everything on the barest glimmer of a chance. For all they knew, John had hidden more relevant info in her apartment. “You know, we should have the guys go through everything they pick up from the hotel.”

“I hope you don’t mind.” Matt cleared his throat. “We already told them to sift the boxes.”

“Well, I hope Razor has fun detailing the contents of my underwear collection.” Jambrea could already see those jokes coming. She liked silly prints, just like on her scrubs. Cherries, rainbows, stars, whatever cute things she could find to snazz up her practical cotton briefs.

“Oh hell. The kid and panties. You know he’ll suddenly get really good at report writing.” Clint snorted.

“He can say whatever he wants. Because that means you’re here and your underwear is far, far away. Just the way I like it.” Matt leaned in and kissed her.

The easy familiarity of the gesture caught Jambrea off guard. She appreciated his attempt at distraction. A successful one at that. Her lids fluttered closed as he used his thumb to encourage her jaw to open before gently sliding his tongue against hers, soothing her in a way rational discussion never could.

When he pulled back and smiled, Clint was quick to claim his turn. He tapped her shoulder so that she faced him. Not to be outdone, he finessed her mouth with seductive kisses that had her wondering how private the woods around them were.

“Okay. Let’s not get carried away.” Matt seemed a little grumpy that he couldn’t take a second taste. She could relate. After a ten-year drought, she could probably soak in all the lust they rained on her and still take more. Hell, a downpour wouldn’t be enough.

They’d have plenty of time to play later.

She hoped.

“Right.” She ran her fingers through her short hair, using Matt’s rearview mirror to do the best she could with her disheveled appearance. “This is as good as it’s going to get. Let’s see who’s home and if they’ll talk to us.”

“We’re with you,” Matt vowed as he inched onto the tar and gravel road once more. Clint left his hand on her thigh, the heat of his palm reassuring even through her jeans.

“I know.” And she really did have faith they would stick by her side, not only through this fiasco but also, maybe, far longer than that.

No more than two minutes passed before the GPS guided them to an unmarked turnoff. Matt looked to Clint, then shrugged as he slowed to a crawl. The dirt path had well-worn ruts that accommodated his truck. Grass grew between them and the trees closed in, forming a tunnel through the thick forest. On either side of the track, the two largest trunks had Private Property signs stapled to them. The next two said
No Trespassing
. And finally a third set about fifty feet in read,
Keep Out!

Unlike the intelligent people they were, they kept right on going.

Daylight dwindled to mottled patches that littered the ground like golden snowflakes. Sunbeams—so bright she was transfixed by the dust and pollen floating through them—infiltrated the canopy to spear into the greenery below. A bunny hopped alongside the trail and when she watched it dive into the brush, several butterflies fluttered around a clump of flowers at the base of the scrub.

The idyllic scenery would have been captivatingly beautiful if it didn’t give her the heebie-jeebies. There was no way out, only the two dirt tracks leading them deeper into this carefully crafted stronghold. They were essentially trapped, forced to go onward with no spot to turn around. If someone came in behind them they’d be stuck.

Fortunately, it didn’t seem like John’s compound got many visitors.

Inside the cab, Matt flipped off the radio, which droned on with repetitive blather about the murdered candidate from news reporters with no news to report. Worse were the endless sound bites from Bertrand Rice. Something about him made her skin crawl. The more she heard him express his false sympathy for the victim and the righteous revenge he promised to voters who hadn’t supported him a few weeks ago, the worse he creeped her out.
 

Even still, the silence was unsettling. None of them spoke, all senses attuned to the strange world they’d transported to and any hint of a threat lurking on the other side of their windshield.

“Watch out!” Clint shouted, nearly giving her a heart attack as she scanned around them for psycho-commandos while Matt slammed on the brakes. An enormous buck bounded across the path, then into the foliage on the other side.

If she believed in fairytales, she might have thought it was John’s spirit looking out for his home and his family—
if
, big if, his sister really did live here. Someone must, because for all the wilderness encroaching on the path, none of it had grown over.

They hadn’t rolled forward again very far before an enormous stone wall topped with razor-wire came into view. A black, wrought iron gate with close-knit swirls and angled spikes at the top—too tight to permit someone to slip through—sat between two imposing pillars integrated into the wall.

More signs. These metal plaques inset into the stonework declared this a visitor-free zone and invited them to get lost.

They didn’t let the lack of a warm welcome deter them.

Matt rolled down the truck window and waved at a surveillance camera mounted on top of the post. When no sign of life ruined the landscape, he withdrew his badge, flipped it open and held it toward the eye in the sky.

The drone of gears engaging sounded before a rock slid aside. Clint tensed next to Jambrea, leaning over to block as much of her as possible from the moving part. Instead of a weapon of some sort, the secret panel revealed a monitor and speakers built in to the masonry.

“Identify yourself.” A woman’s voice demanded their compliance though the screen stayed black.

“You mean you didn’t run my plates as soon as we came down your driveway? Or maybe even on the mountain road back there?” Matt didn’t let the chill in her request impact him. At least he made it seem like it didn’t.

“What business does one of the COPD’s Men in Blue have with me?” she asked.

“Actually, there are two of us here today.” Matt gestured across the cab. “This is my partner.”

“Clint Griggs.” The woman affirmed she’d done her homework in the time it’d taken them to trek to her front door.

“Nice to meet you.” Matt smiled, pouring on the charm that’d had Jambrea under his thumb in no time once he’d focused his attention on her. It rankled to see him apply that charisma to someone else. “We’re actually just escorts today.”

“Who’s the woman you’ve brought?” The tone of her question changed, as if true curiosity was behind the inquiry rather than confirming truth or proving lies.

Matt looked to Jambrea. She nodded. “Her name is Jambrea Jones.”

“Get out of the truck.” The gatekeeper’s command was as hard as the rock fence before them. Jambrea pictured a woman with slicked-back dark hair, bulging eyes, ultra-pale skin and an entire room of firearms behind her. At least she thought that might be what she saw if the screen had been illuminated. “Right now! I’m not fucking around.”

“Wait for me to come over there.” Clint exited first and rounded the hood to the driver’s side.

“Stay behind us.” Matt squeezed Jambrea’s hand before sliding from the vehicle.

“Why do you guys always get to put yourself in danger?” she grumbled. This was her mess, after all.

Trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach, she took several deep breaths, then pictured John’s face as he’d lain beside her in the moonlight. There’d been nothing aggressive in his touch. Circumstances aside, she had to believe the same would be true of his sister.

If
that was who they were dealing with.

And if time and the world at large hadn’t taught the woman she needed to be vicious to survive.

Or maybe John had found a wife who wouldn’t take kindly to an ex popping out of the woodworks to make her life hell.

Well, shit.

As they shuffled together toward the gate, which was even more imposing from ground level, she murmured, “I feel like we’re asking to see the great and powerful Oz.”

“As long as there are no flying monkeys.” Clint looked up to the puffy white clouds floating by. “I hate monkeys. They freak me out.”

Silently, she thanked him for playing along, ratcheting down the intensity she couldn’t erase any other way. His sense of humor would never cease to endear him to her.

“Below the screen is a fingerprint scanner. Have her put her thumb on it.”

“I’m not sure…” Matt began.

“Too late to go home now,” the woman snarled. “There are mines along every inch of the driveway. Try to leave and I won’t allow it. If this is some sick game you’re playing, you’re about to be sorely disappointed. Enemies or competing spies are not tolerated at Camp David.”

Seriously?
Clint mouthed to Matt.
Camp David?

A bad joke, maybe. But Jambrea could see how it fit. John had only wanted them left in peace.

“Five…four…” The woman had lost her patience. And maybe some of her sanity, up here in this lonely mountain retreat. Relentless vigilance had to take a toll.

Jambrea shoved through the tiny gap between her guys. She smooshed her thumb on the pad and waited. A few seconds later, green LED lights flashed, chasing each other in a rectangle around the perimeter of the scanner.

The gate creaked then opened inward.

“It really
is
you.” A woman’s face flickered to life on the screen. “Sorry about that. I had to be sure. I’ve heard so much about you, I sometimes wondered if you were real or a figment of John’s imagination.”

“Hi.” Jambrea waved, unsure of what else to do.

“Listen carefully. Meet me at the main cabin. Get in your truck, drive north. There are a series of forks. From the left take the first, third, fourth, then second.” She grimaced. “Don’t screw up. The other ones are booby trapped.”

Matt repeated the pattern several times before they were all satisfied.

“See you in about fifteen minutes.” Again the screen went blank.

“Gee, Jambi. You have a knack for picking some fucked up boyfriends.” Clint boosted her beside him once more. “That creeper must have lifted your print off a glass in your apartment.”

“Or maybe he got it from her military files,” Matt speculated.

For once they were all mute as they traveled deeper into the heart of Camp David. After what seemed like forever, and yet no time at all, they were there.

A meadow opened at the end of the tree tunnel that had persisted through the wooded maze. Flat and well-maintained, the grassy plane made sneaking up on the cabin centered in its green sea impossible. The stone and beam construction of the main house, complete with a thatched roof, had Jambrea thinking of bedtime stories all over again. In an alien landscape compared to the city only a handful of hours away, she felt as if they’d been transported to a place where the real world couldn’t infiltrate far enough to touch them.

Maybe that was the point.

They rolled to a stop in the square gravel lot, edged with chunky rough-hewn rocks, then walked together—Jambrea in the middle—holding hands as they approached warily. When they got within ten feet of the wide porch stairs, the door opened. A woman, maybe five or ten years older than Jambrea, met them with her hand extended.