Chapter Forty-Nine

Suede scrambled into the bedroom and changed out of her snow gear, her body still buzzing like a hive full of angry bees from her narrow escape. What a mess. But Chance was home safe and sound. That was what mattered. If she could only stop shaking.

In the bathroom, she cleaned the thin slice where Zapata had cut her neck. Chance will kill him for that alone, she thought as she pressed a butterfly bandage to the nick on her cheek next.

Full of adrenaline, she fast-tracked to the kitchen and set a full pot of coffee to drip. Chance would be hungry. Kruze too. She had no idea if Zapata or his assassin friends would hang around or if Chance planned to feed them, but she set three pounds of peppered bacon to sizzling on the massive built-in griddle alongside the stove, then sliced two loaves of banana bread while the bacon browned.

A double breakfast casserole came next, but omelets had to wait until the men came upstairs. No one liked tough eggs, and she didn’t know how long this interrogation, or whatever Chance was doing down there, would take. She half expected to hear gunshots, he’d looked so fierce.

Now she understood hyper-vigilance. Her nerves were strung as tight as the skin on a snare drum. Every little noise seemed too loud and everything startled her until she seriously contemplated dosing her coffee with the expensive liquor Pagan loved.

Speaking of Pagan, where was he? Opting for reading instead of drinking, Suede settled into the corner of the couch and lifted Scarlett Sinclair’s novel, My Enemy Tryst, from the end table. But as much as she tried, her brain wouldn’t focus. She kept reliving what had just happened. Even York made an after death appearance in her frazzled brain. Rest and reading wasn’t happening until she had Chance in her arms and could kiss the hell out of him.

Suede set the novel aside when a sound at the front door brought her upright. What now? She jumped to her feet. Did she dare see who was out there? For a secluded cabin in the mountain, this place certainly got a lot of company and most of it was unwelcome. Should she hide like the coward she felt like?

Whoever it was, that person banging at the door wasn’t leaving. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, right?

Before she could get to the door, it shoved open. “Pagan!”

*****

It all made sense now. The rep for winging the boys-in-blue instead of killing them. Her presence in Portland. Vicki wasn’t there for a piece of the action. She didn’t want in on the drug distribution in the Northwest either. No. All this time, she’d been tracking Domingo Zapata under the guise of her moonlighting job while she’d actually worked deep undercover for the Drug Enforcement Agency. Inside the Sicilian mob, for hell’s sake. Could things get crazier?

Yep.

Chance had no sooner called the senator and told him who he had in custody and why, when his cell lit up with a number he dared not let go to voicemail. “Excuse me, but I’ve really need to take this.” Really.

Automatically, Chance’s spine straightened. He motioned Kruze to shut the door behind him so Juarez and Zapata couldn’t listen in, thumbed ‘Accept’ and said, “Yes, Mr. President.”

“Chief Sinclair, it’s a pleasure to finally speak with you.” President Adams sounded as if he were there in the basement instead of sitting at his desk in the Oval Office in Washington D.C.

Chance damned near saluted. “Yes, sir.”

“Relax, son. How’s the fly-fishing in your corner of my country?” This was why Chance voted for President Adams. He was one of the guys, a down-home boy from Oklahoma, and a true blue American who stood by his military men and women.

“You’ll catch more rainbows once the weather warms up, Mr. President.”

Kruze came to Chance’s side, his arms crossed over his chest, a big question mark in his eyes. Why’s he calling you?

Chance shook his head. I have no idea, unless it has to do with Vicki, umm, shit, Agent Hex. For once he was one step ahead of things, and she was no longer in custody. But he’d shot a federal agent. My bad.

“Chief Sinclair, I understand you can’t let on exactly what it is you’re doing out there in God’s country, and I wouldn’t ask you to. But could you do me a favor and stop calling me Mr. President? Nobody needs to know who you’re talking to. This is just between us guys.”

“Yes, sir,” still sprang to Chance’s lips. His mom had ingrained good manners in him long before the military did.

“Say, you wouldn’t have enough room in that high tech cabin of yours for an overnight guest, would you?” The twang in the President’s rich baritone was a pleasure to hear, but Chance knew this was not just a friendly call. Not from the Big Guy.

“Absolutely. You name the day and I’ll make it happen, sir.”

“I just might do that.” President Adams cleared his throat. Papers ruffled and Chance could imagine him signing documents while he chatted. “Chance, it’s been brought to my attention that you have a friend of mine staying with you at the moment. To be honest, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Already done, sir.”

“Well, good.” Satisfaction radiated all the way from the East Coast. “Put him on the line. I’d like to talk with him.”

Chance caught himself before his big mouth asked, ‘Him?’ He offered a clipped, “Yes, sir. I’ll get him for you,” instead of ‘Shit. Not him!’ Covering the mic on his phone, he glared at Kruze. “President Adams wants to talk with his friend, and it’s not Victoria Hex.”

A bottle rocket went off behind Kruze’s eyes. “Told you JJ was one of the good guys.” It took him less than thirty seconds to bring Julio Juarez to the phone. The damned man suppressed a smile, the jerk!

“You have friends in high places,” Chance said as he handed his phone over to one of America’s best kept secrets.

“I do,” Julio said simply. “Mr. President. What may I do for you, sir?”

The conversation was terse and succinct, no more than one “Yes, sir,” and an “Understood” before he handed the phone back. “President Adams would like to talk with you, Chief Sinclair.”

Umm, okay… “Yes, sir,” Chance said, his voice gone hoarse while his brain tried to connect the dots. What kind of work did Julio do that the President of the United States would be personally involved? Shit, was he CIA? Something darker, blacker than the SOBs?

“Chance, it’s been a pleasure and an honor to finally talk with you. Agent Juarez has my permission to share several items of interest. Could you make him comfortable until my men arrive to escort him back to work?”

“Yes, sir, I can do that.”

“And Chance,” President Adams’ tone dipped low. “I was sure sorry to hear about your mother passing away. I had the privilege of working with Scarlett during my re-election campaign, and not a day went by that she didn’t make me look good. Everyone loved her. You three boys were the brightest lights in her life. She was proud of each of you, but it was clear that you were her favorite. I hope you know that.”

A knot wound around Chance’s throat so tightly he could barely speak, “Yes, sir. I do know that.” I always knew that.

“I’ll be seeing you.” And just like that, the President of the United States was gone.

Chance turned on Agent Juarez, now rubbing his uncuffed wrists. “You bastard. You’re CIA?” He nearly said ‘too’, but that would’ve outed Victoria Hex, and right then, Chance wasn’t sure who knew what about who.

Julio extended a hand and a humble nod. “Special Agent Julio Juarez at your service, Chief Sinclair, and yes, I’m like you. For the last couple of years, I’ve been assigned to an operation no one outside the Oval Office is privy to.” Lifting a clenched hand to his mouth, he cleared his throat. “May I please have a drink of water? It’s been a long day.”

Chance leveled a shrewd eye at the man. “Do you know…?”

“Miss Hex?” Julio asked, a quiet sparkle in his dark eyes. “Yes, but it’d sure be nice if we discussed this somewhere” —he scrubbed his palms up and down his biceps— “warmer.”

“You bet.” Chance wanted to bat the I-told-you-so grin off Kruze’s smug face. “Let’s head upstairs.”

Julio offered his fists. “Put me back in cuffs first. I cannot break cover.”

“We can do that,” Kruse offered. “Shall I bring Vicki?”

So now it’s Vicki, huh? You dog. “Yes, bring her, but keep her cuffed,” Chance muttered. “And stop drooling on her.”

Kruze’s cheeks flushed bright red. “I’m not drooling on her.”

“Yes. You were,” Julio said evenly, his voice stern.

Damned if Kruze didn’t turn redder.

Chance double-checked Zapata’s cell to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere, then told Gallo to, “Guard.” His dog jumped to his feet, growling at the man in the cage.

This had turned into one hell of an interesting day.