Renegade (Trackers #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

RAVEN

I groaned in pain and shook out my hand, looking down at the man I’d just knocked to the ground. He’d rolled to his hands and knees and was cursing as Miguel helped him to his feet. It was all I could do not to grab my lover and yank him away from the man whose resurrection from the dead had been making our lives a living hell for the last week.

I hadn’t believed my eyes when I’d looked up from my phone, happy to see Miguel coming toward me as he’d walked across the parking lot. My interest had peaked the minute I noticed another man in a baseball cap walking beside him, but when he’d looked up at me, meeting my eyes for the first time, fear had raced down my spine. On impulse, I’d found myself reaching for my gun, gripping it in steady hands, almost daring him to make an overt move.

Sutter had one hand over his nose which was bleeding profusely. He looked up at me with bleary, green eyes. I expected them to be filled with loathing but was shocked when they crinkled at the corners as he grinned. His teeth were bloody where his nose had bled into his mouth but other than surprise by his reaction, I couldn’t isolate any other emotions.

“That’s a hell of a right cross, Mathis,” he snuffled, blowing blood bubbles.

“Christ, Raven,” Miguel said, holding out both arms between us to create distance.

I forced my gaze away from Sutter and glanced at Miguel. He was looking at me with a combination of surprise and shock. When he dropped his arms, I started to take a step toward him but stopped, frowning. “What’s he doing here?” I looked him up and down, worried that I’d somehow overlooked the fact that he wasn’t okay but saw nothing wrong. He appeared totally unscathed. I don’t really know what I’d expected, but it wasn’t to find him walking into the Federal building with a murderer. He turned to Sutter, pointing at his face.

“Stay here. Raven needs to lock his weapon in the car.” He didn’t wait for an answer before taking my elbow and pulling me back toward the parking lot. I resisted but he tightened his grip. “I’m not kidding. They won’t let you into a federal building with a gun. Come on, Raven. Someone may be following us.”

That got my attention as I instantly began to move faster, hurriedly scanning the parking lot as we briskly walked back to the car. It looked normal, cars driving in and out, up and down lanes. I could barely breathe.

“What the hell is going on?” I hissed as Miguel tugged me along.

“I’ll tell you everything once we’re inside. You’ve done your worst, Raven, but he deserves a minute to be heard.” I couldn’t believe my ears, but I said nothing more as we got to the truck and stowed my gun and grabbed some napkins with a bottle of water. Sutter was still standing where we’d left him when we returned, and Miguel offered him the napkins and water to clean himself up a bit. Security might look at us sideways otherwise.

We continued on into the building, our charge following close behind. I didn’t like him at my back, so I slowed to let him get in front of me as Miguel stepped up beside him at the checkpoint.

I was relieved as hell to see Mark, Jarrett, and Thayne waiting for us on the other side of the scanners. I’d called ahead to let them know Miguel and I were on our way but was a little surprised to find them waiting. I could tell Mark had recognized Sutter by the cool look in his otherwise pleasant face. He turned and spoke into Jarrett’s ear, and I watched the big Marine straighten his back as he glanced over at us. Thayne’s head shot up and he narrowed his eyes at Sutter. Relief flooded through me as I realized that the reason Miguel brought Sutter here was because we’d both be safe among friends.

“Are those your friends from the ATF?” Sutter asked, holding a wad of bloody napkins against his face. His voice sounded nasally, and I swelled with just a little bit of pride, knowing that even though it probably made me the crappiest person on earth, I really didn’t give a shit. Something must have prompted Miguel to bring Sutter here, and I wouldn’t be a very good person if I didn’t hear him out. I knew he didn’t trust Sutter, but something the man said, had convinced him to listen. I’d try to do the same and keep an open mind.

Miguel didn’t reply to Sutter but instead, showed his ID, gesturing to our friends standing several feet away. I did the same but when it came time for Sutter to show his ID, he blanched and looked at my partner.

“I don’t have ID.” He hesitated for a second, lowering his voice. “Legitimate ID.”

Miguel nodded, glancing up at the others and gesturing them over. Mark was followed by Jarrett and Thayne who were staring at Sutter with practiced calm. We waited as Mark explained something to the guard behind the desk. The man nodded and glanced up at Sutter. “Remove your cap so the camera can see your ears and put your right thumb on the keypad.” The man checked his monitor then pointed to a small camera just inside the bulletproof glass. “Look into the lens.” Sutter hesitated only a moment before complying. After the guard verified he’d captured his thumbprint and image, he turned to Mark and nodded.

“Come on through the scanners,” Mark said, waving us all over.

We walked through the metal detectors, and I noticed how uncomfortable Sutter looked when he raised his arms to be scanned as he stepped through. Once we were all inside, I let out a slow breath. I had to admit, I was relieved to be out of the parking lot where a sniper might have been watching everything we did. When I thought about it logically, I realized that was probably stupid since they would have just taken their shot. I wasn’t feeling anything but grateful, though…grateful that my Miguel was safe and still recovering from the shock of my life when I’d spotted the bastard walking beside him. I just wanted to hear Sutter’s story and find out the identities of the people who’d threatened Miguel’s life in the Getty’s gardens.

We were all silent as we took the elevators up to the offices. I felt safe surrounded by all our friends who were no doubt as curious to hear Sutter’s story as I was. We walked into a big conference room where Damon Thorne and Mac McCallahan waited. The small blonde woman I’d seen in the lobby of the FBI building was talking to the two men. They all looked over and the expression on Thorne’s face when he saw John Sutter was one of shock. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head as if he couldn’t believe who he was seeing.

“Sutter?”

“Thorne,” Sutter muttered. He tried to smile but winced, reaching up to his nose which looked…broken.

Had I done that? I flushed with embarrassment.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He stared open-mouthed. “And what the fuck happened to you?”

Sutter turned to look first at Miguel and then over at me. “I got punched in the face...twice.”

Miguel let out a quiet snort, and I turned to stare at him. “Twice?”

He glanced down. “Yeah, I kinda…hit him in the nose.”

“You hit him in the nose?” Mac said.

“Yeah,” Sutter said before pointing at me. “And then he hit me in the nose.”

Jarrett burst out laughing and then glanced at his father before sobering. He shrugged. “Sorry, Daddy. That shit’s funny.”

I smiled and then glanced over at the woman who was watching us all with interest. “Hi. I’m Raven Mathis,” I said, introducing myself as I walked over and held out a hand.

“SAC Sarah Connor. Nice to meet you, Raven. I’ve heard only good things.” She turned to Miguel. “You must be Miguel.”

“Yes, ma’am. Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand, and she pivoted back to the others.

“Well, it sounds like you all have a lot to talk about. Make yourself at home. If you need anything, my office is at the end of the hall.”

“Thanks, Sarah,” Thayne said as she walked out. He shut the door and then held out a hand. “I suppose we should all sit down.” He looked over at Sutter. “That… ah …can I get you some ice or something?” He waved at Sutter’s face.

“No, that’s fine, thanks.” Sutter looked incredibly uncomfortable as he pulled out a chair beside Miguel and sat down. I sat on the other side.

“Take some ice, John,” Miguel said with a hint of exasperation.

John waved it off, looking stubborn.

“You need to be able to see,” Miguel hissed. “Has nothing changed.”

John held Miguel’s stare and sighed, nodding reluctantly.

Ice was brought, and John winced when it touched his face before saying, “I guess you all know who I am.” He glanced at Damon. “It’s been a minute, Thorne.”

Damon frowned at him. “How the hell are you here, Sutter? Why are you here?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Sutter said, looking almost nervously at the others.

“I should probably introduce you to everyone,” Miguel said. “John Sutter, this is Mac McCallahan, FBI, Mark Evans, retired CIA, Jarrett Evans, ATF, Thayne Wolfe, ATF, and you’ve met Raven.”

Sutter simply nodded as Miguel went around the room. “I know you’re all wondering why I’m here and I want to thank you for hearing me out.”

Miguel cleared his throat. “When Sutter caught up to me today at my friend Vonne’s house, I guess I was kind of shocked to say the least. I know I’ve told all of you some things about him and our past in Afghanistan and now that he’s filled me in on some missing pieces, I wanted you all to hear him out.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning, Sutter?” Mark said. “It’s my understanding that you’ve been hanging around with a very bad crowd.”

Sutter nodded, looking down at his hands, and for the first time I spotted the thin white scar running through his eyebrow, the same one I’d seen in the photos Miguel had. “Yes, sir. They found me in Afghanistan.” He glanced at Miguel. “You’ve told them everything you know about what happened?”

“Yeah, I’ve told them everything I know about how you were lost in the sandstorm, but I’d love to know how that CIA cell picked you up.”

“CIA cell ?” Mark interrupted. “What the hell is a CIA cell ?”

Sutter sighed. “That’s what they call themselves, but I should start at the beginning, like you said.” When Mark nodded, he began telling his story. “About three days before we were sent out on the Recon mission where we got caught in the storm, I went to the communications tent to call home.” He looked at Miguel. “I think you know there was a girl I’d been seeing back home that had ended all bar the shouting.”

Miguel nodded. “I’d forgotten. You’d gotten a letter from her.”

Sutter laughed and looked embarrassed. “Yeah, a dear John letter.” When no one laughed, he went on. “Anyway, I thought I should call back home to finalize things with her. So, after I finished the call, I was on my way back to our quarters when I heard laughter coming from one of the supply sheds. It should have been dark and locked up for the night, but the light was on, so I made a short detour to see what was going on. That’s when I spotted Lance Bishop, John Mendez, and Alex Filmore coming out. They were carrying a footlocker…well, it looked like a footlocker…same size and all. Anyway, I ducked back into the shadows so I wouldn’t be spotted, but one of them did. I heard Filmore tell one of the others to go see who it was. I took off running but I think they might have caught a glimpse of me.”

“I know all those guys,” Damon said.

“They were all operatives on base?” Mark asked, typing their names into his phone.

“Yeah. They all rotated in and out of the base, but Mendez and Bishop were there most of the time,” Damon replied. “I didn’t see Bishop as often. I think he was based—” he glanced at Mark before looking back. “Elsewhere.”

“Right,” Mark said, nodding as he put away his phone. “Go on, Sutter.”

Sutter glanced at Miguel. “I should have told you about the CIA guys and what I’d seen as soon as I got back, but we’d just gotten orders. And then there was all that bullshit with Vonne threatening to report me so I couldn’t lead the mission, and the fight and all. I had to make sure the doc would sign off on me…which took me another day. Anyway, you know what happened. A few days later, we got caught in the sandstorm,” he said.

“I’d sure as hell like to know what happened after you went outside,” Miguel said. I could hear the sorrow in his voice, and it hurt to know he had to relive it every time he thought of that painful day.

“I’m not sure. Somehow, I got separated from the vehicle. I tripped and hit my head when I was trying to make my way back to the door of the vehicle. I think I lost my headgear.”

I watched as a tear ran down his cheek and I felt a sudden pang of guilt for hating him as he recounted that day.

“I got blinded by the storm as I was feeling around on the ground trying to find my goggles. I figured I had to be close to the vehicle, but I was getting pummeled from all directions. I should have been able to find the Humvee, but I started to panic when I couldn’t see. The stinging sand and the wind was making me cry. I crawled around and around until suddenly, someone was there. I felt arms lifting me off the ground but before I could call out, a black hood was shoved over my head. I started fighting for my life. I thought I’d been taken by the enemy.”

“But it wasn’t the Taliban,” Miguel said.

I could hear the pain in his voice, and it turned my stomach as Sutter went on.

“At the time I thought it was,” he said, looking at Miguel. “I only know I was knocked unconscious and the next thing I knew, I was waking up, blindfolded, injured, coughing so hard I threw up. I could taste sand and cried out for water. I felt someone beside me, and I begged them for water.” Sutter was crying now. “When someone lifted a cup to my mouth, I tried to hold it but that’s when I realized my hands were tied. I’d been captured,” he finished bitterly.

“When did you figure out it wasn’t the enemy?” Mark asked.

Sutter turned and looked at him. “I think it was a couple of days before I suspected it wasn’t the Taliban. I heard muffled voices and realized that I was in a room or a hut or something.”

“What language were they speaking?” Miguel asked.

“Pashtu, I think,” Sutter replied, looking over at him. “It may have been Urdu which just confused me. I had a head injury, so I wasn’t thinking clearly. I kept trying to figure out if I was in Pakistan. I had no idea how long I’d been out…if they’d taken me somewhere. In any case, they weren’t talking much, and you know I wasn’t as fluent as some of the guys.”

“How long were you kept there, Sutter?” Damon asked.

“Three days, I think, maybe longer. They kept me blindfolded and it was hard to tell day from night. I didn’t hear the adhan .”

“What’s that?” I asked.

Miguel turned to me. “In Arabic countries worshippers are called to prayer by the adhan , the Arabic word for it. Someone sings a sort of recitation from their mosque five times a day.”

“In Farsi they call it azan ,” Jarrett added stoically. “It’s pretty eerie when you hear it from the minarets before dawn.”

“Oh, I know now,” I said, realizing what they were talking about as if hearing the musical call to prayer in my head. “That means you must not have been in a city, right?”

Sutter nodded. “Right. I’m pretty sure I was in a village. I could hear and smell animals. Like I said, I was just sitting there waiting for them to come and get me so they could videotape my beheading. They must have known I was a Marine. I was in uniform.”

I glanced at Miguel. He looked sick to his stomach. “When did you hook up with the CIA cell you were talking about?”

“Someone came and got me in the middle of the night. They threw me in the back of a car. I’m pretty sure it was an all-terrain vehicle…like a Jeep. The roads weren’t paved. My head was still aching from where they’d knocked me out and I felt every rock and divot in the road. We drove for about two hours by my reckoning but it could have been more or less. Then I was yanked out and taken to a room. I was praying the whole way there that my death would be quick.” He took a deep breath as he looked at Miguel. “Instead, they pulled off my hood. Standing in front of me was Lance Bishop. I was never so happy to see a familiar face in my life.” He stared down at his hands, trying to compose himself before looking up again, this time directly at Mark. “When I asked how they’d found me, he pointed a gun in my face and told me to tell him exactly what I knew about their cell.”

“They did recognize you that night then?” Miguel asked.

Sutter nodded. “Anyway, when I told him I didn’t know anything, that’s when Bishop shot me in the stomach.”

“He shot you?” Mark asked.

Sutter stood and pulled up the T-shirt he wore under his bomber jacket, revealing a nasty three-inch scar just above his belly button. In the center was a puckered wound. It looked nothing like the tiny scars that remained from the .22 caliber bullet I’d been shot with, thanks to Vonne’s healing hands.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Damon swore.

Miguel glanced over at me, and it took everything in my power to curb the urge to reach out to him. I folded my hands in my lap to stop myself. Sutter dropped his shirt and sat back down as we both focused back on him.

“Anyway, I got really sick after that. I had a fever and nearly bled to death. Bishop blindfolded me again and kept me tied up. After some time—I don’t know how long—John Mendez showed up with an Afghani woman who dug out the bullet and nursed me for a couple of weeks. Maybe it was longer. I was delirious most of that time.”

“I’d bet,” Mac said. “Did they tell you why they kept you alive or how you ended up in their hands?”

Sutter looked over at him. “You’re military?” He lifted his hand and rubbed over his own head before pointing at Mac. “The buzz cut.”

“Former Green Beret.”

Sutter nodded. “Thought so. Anyway, they never told me why they kept me alive, but it became only too clear to me later on.”

“What was it, Sutter?” Mark asked. His voice was softer now with a hint of compassion.

“They wanted me to become their bitch,” he said sharply. “When I told them to fuck off, Bishop came in and nearly shot me again until Mendez intervened at the last second.” He shook his head before looking at Miguel again. “I promised myself that no matter what, I was going to get away and somehow come back to you and the unit.” More tears slipped down his face and I could see his lip tremble as he tried not to break down.

“I tried to get back, Miguel. I escaped twice but every time I did, Mendez found me and dragged me back. He wore me down and, though, I knew I was being groomed and that he was my handler, I didn’t care. By that time, months had passed, and I was beginning to feel safe being around him. He treated me like a friend. He told me things about himself, like the fact that he had gotten a village girl pregnant and was taking care of her.”

“You’re saying John Mendez had a kid with an Afghani woman?” Mark asked.

Sutter nodded, looking at Miguel. “I told Trigg—Miguel—about her. The woman’s name is Niloufar, and her son is called Daniel.”

“How do you know that, Sutter?” Mark asked.

He sighed. “Mendez told me about them roughly three years after I’d started working with them.”

“Wait a minute,” Damon said. “You voluntarily started working with them?”

Sutter gazed down at his hands. “I guess…at some point…I guess I lost hope of escape. Every time I ran, Mendez found me and brought me back. I’d get beaten by him and then it’d take me a week to recover. He’d apologize, saying he went too far and tell me that I had to do something else for them to make up for it.”

“What did they make you do?” Damon asked.

He looked up and laughed bitterly. “They made me learn Arabic. It took months before I finally tried to escape again. That last time, Mendez beat me so badly, I nearly died. They took me to a hospital…somewhere in Iraq, I think. The doctors and nurses had Iraqi accented Arabic anyway. I’d become almost fluent in the language and accents from different regions by then. While I was in the hospital, I was treated…but I lost a kidney.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Miguel said as everyone at the table groaned.

“Anyway, after that, I gave up and started doing whatever they wanted.” He looked up at Miguel, eyes haunted. “I swear if I had it to do all over again, I would have just killed myself as soon as I got the chance.” His eyes filled with tears, and they ran down his face. “I tried to get back to you. I swear it.”

Miguel reached out and clasped his shoulder. “They tortured you, brother, and I swear whatever they did to you, I’m going to do to them ten times over.”

Sutter shook his head, swiping at his tears. “No. You have no idea what they’ll do. They nearly killed you that night at the Getty. Mendez told me he had you in his sights. He could have pulled the trigger, and you would be gone from this world. You’ve become another pawn to them, just like Nilu and Daniel.”

“Can you tell us about them, Sutter?” Mark asked in his calm voice.

“I have them in hiding.” He glanced at Miguel before looking back at Mark. “I move them every few months.” He sighed. “About two years after Mendez told me about them, he took me to see them. He had them stashed in a flat in Karachi. He said he wanted them safe but when I saw the fear in Nilu’s eyes, I knew he was torturing her just like me. She was a slave to him and was keeping Daniel alive to use against her. One day when he’d left me alone with her and the boy, she confided in me. He beat her and used her, keeping his own son alive, to torture her.

“I promised to get her to safety and, though, it took another two years, I finally convinced a female medical officer from Doctors Without Borders to get them to Europe. They lived in Paris for a long time but they’re here in Los Angeles now.” He looked around the room. “I’m trusting you all with the lives of people I call family. They’re the only good that I’ve had in the past eleven years.” His voice hitched. “I’m trusting you with their lives.”

Miguel glanced over at me and then back at Sutter, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder. “John, you’re not alone anymore, brother. You’ve come home.”