Winter Reckoning (Heroes of Vanguard #4)

Chapter 1

“Almost there.”

The locker room smelled of industrial cleaner and old coffee. It was better than the smell of Cody’s body spray. No matter how many times we kicked him out the door buck naked, he’d do it again after the next mission. I wouldn’t miss that.

I twisted the name patch free from my jacket and held it for a second longer than I needed. Frost. Twenty years of putting my life on the line, reduced to a strip of fabric and thread. I dropped it in the trash without ceremony.

The duffel sat open on the bench. I packed methodically. Suit. A bottle of scotch the guys got me as a retirement gift. Spare gloves. No weapons. No gear. The department could keep it all. I zipped the bag and slung it over my shoulder.

I eyed the calendar hanging on the door of my locker.

Christmas had been circled in red sharpie.

Bah, humbug. It just so happened that my last day on the job happened on a holiday.

I huffed at the thought. It was probably the best present I could ask for.

In a brightly colored box with a tidy red bow, my ability to fade into the nothingness.

The commendation board hung near the exit.

Photos of retired officers, plaques for years of service, a few condolence cards tucked into the corners for the ones who didn't make it out.

I recognized most of the faces. Only a few had come and gone before I joined the Task Force.

My photo would eventually join them. Maybe they'd spell my name right.

How many of those faces had said, “If they’d let me, I’d come back in a heartbeat”? Once upon a time, I felt the same. I’d have reenlisted just for the prestige of being on the Powered Task Force. Now? I had become the best, but I was willing to put it behind me and lead a quiet life.

Only three shifts remained. Three days until I disappeared and put law enforcement behind me.

The plan was simple: a cabin upstate, no neighbors, no noise.

Maybe I'd learn to golf? No, I’d take up woodworking.

I couldn’t wait to sit in the silence and wrap it about me like a warm blanket. The slow-paced life sounded perfect.

The hallway outside the locker room stretched long and empty while the overhead fluorescent lights flickered.

My boots echoed against the tile. Early morning meant a skeleton crew.

I preferred it that way. I had begged to work the least desirable shift.

No handshakes. No speeches about dedication or sacrifice.

I passed a window where Judy continued filling out paperwork.

We had stopped a woman determined to get revenge on her husband.

Not our usual case, except she could hurl fireballs and he could lift a car.

Both had been put behind bars at Cold Iron.

Let the investigators figure out what came next.

In my opinion, he deserved every scorch mark.

I made it halfway to the exit before Captain Alvarez stepped into my path.

"Frost."

I stopped. Didn't drop the duffel. "Captain."

The captain had my respect. As a Latina in law enforcement, the cards had been stacked against her.

More than that, in a department filled with powers, she held her own.

Nobody ever suggested the captain might be powerless.

She might not have telepathy, but Alvarez led the department like a true leader.

I’d miss her no-fluff personality.

She held a sealed file against her chest. Red stripe across the top. Redline classification? I'd seen maybe a dozen of those in twenty years, and every single one had been a nightmare dressed up as paperwork. Her expression suggested she was about to ruin my night.

“Cap, I’ve got three shifts left,” I said. “Whatever trouble you’re holding, I don’t need it.”

“If I had any other choice…” She held the file out. “This requires my best man.”

I didn't take it. “Percy can take it.”

“No. He can’t.” Her tone shifted. It went from being a suggestion to an order. Alvarez made it clear there were no alternatives. Nothing I said would change her mind.

She pushed the file toward me until I had no choice but to grab it or let it fall. The paper felt heavier than it should have. No photo. No power registry number. No threat assessment. Just the name and location coordinates stamped in the corner.

“What the hell? You’re sending me in blind.”

Alvarez crossed her arms. Her face gave away nothing.

She'd perfected that look years before I joined the force. While I wanted to fade into oblivion, Maria Alvarez would die in the captain’s chair.

The Powered Task Force was what drove her.

At one point, I could say the same. Thankfully, I outgrew that.

“Who is it?”

“Someone who still matters.”

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."

I flipped the file open. A single page inside. Minimal intel. Off-grid location. Whitetail Ridge? I had lived in Vanguard my whole life and never met somebody from there. It was nothing more than an honorary title for a stretch of road leading to Sin City.

I kept reading.

Protection detail. No backup listed. No incident history.

No explanation for why this required a powered officer.

A single paragraph sat in the middle of the page, every line redacted.

A red file with redactions? I thought it had been top level clearance, but obviously I still had a few things to learn.

I looked up. "This is a babysitting job."

"Yes."

“Then give it to Percy.”

"No."

I closed the file. The red stripe caught the overhead lights.

Redline meant classified. It meant questions wouldn't get answered, and pushing back would only make it worse. Redacted paragraphs on a Redline? Someone didn’t want this mission reviewed.

Not by me, not by anyone. The last one Alvarez handed me involved shapeshifters inside Vanguard law enforcement.

What could be this serious and not require the entire department to get involved?

"Why me?"

Alvarez didn't blink. "Because you'll do the job."

That landed harder than I expected. Not an insult. Just the truth. I'd built a career on doing exactly that. Show up. Handle it. Move on. No attachments. No complications. Clean exits.

Three days until my final goodbye.

I tried one more time. "You're wasting my time."

“Frost.” One word put an end to my protests. It had been made official with no room for negotiations. She stepped aside, clearing my path to the door. “I have the utmost faith in you.”

I could have argued. Could have told her to reassign it. Could have walked out and let the consequences fall where they would. It’d have only resulted in a premature retirement and losing my pension. Instead, I tucked the file under my arm and headed for the exit.

No goodbyes. No acknowledgments. Just silence and the sound of my boots against tile.

The parking lot stretched empty under a gray sky.

My truck sat in the far corner, where I always left it.

With no ability to fly or teleport, they referred to me as part of the ground unit.

We had fancy cars, but I preferred showing up to the scene in my beaten-up pickup truck. So far, she hadn’t given up on me.

I threw the duffel in the back and climbed into the driver's seat. The engine turned over on the second try. I let it idle while I stared at the file on the passenger seat.

A Redline.

“Dammit,” I muttered. I backed out of the spot and pointed the truck north.

The city thinned as I drove toward Whitetail Ridge.

Skyscrapers gave way to low buildings, then industrial zones, then scattered houses with yards that needed mowing.

The highway stretched ahead, empty except for a few early commuters heading in the opposite direction.

I kept the radio off. The hum of the engine and the tires against asphalt was enough.

The windshield fogged. I cranked the heat and wiped the glass with my sleeve. Snow hadn't started yet, but winter held its breath, ready to bury everything in a layer of white. I could feel it in my bones, not the cold, but the turning point when Mother Nature readied her storm.

An hour passed. Then another. The trees grew thicker. The road narrowed. I passed a gas station that looked like it hadn't seen business in a decade. A few more miles and I'd hit Whitetail Ridge. Then I'd meet my charge. Three days. I only needed to survive three days, then I’d be out.

For good.

I glanced at the file again. It wasn’t my first protection detail. I had been assigned to watch over everybody, from celebrities facing death threats to the mayor during an alien incursion. Most of the time, it was nothing more than sipping coffee and assuring them they weren’t in any real danger.

So why did this one give me a chill?