Chapter 5 #2
“I talked to one of the agents who interviewed the hostages. Several said they saw Gillian struggling with Alberto, and saw them go down and trip Luis and Andrea. They also saw you and her hugging. It was the talk of the group. How impressed they were with Gillian and how brave they thought she was…but also how intimate the two of you seemed to be. As if maybe you knew each other before the hijacking, and Gillian was the reason the team was sent in. If I was an insider, I’d be pretty pissed off at her right about now.
Especially after hearing all my fellow passengers praise her so highly. ”
Trigger stood so quickly, his chair fell to the floor behind him. “Address?”
Brain didn’t quite smile, but his lips twitched as he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “She lives on the north end of Georgetown. Shouldn’t take you too long to get there.”
“This isn’t funny,” Trigger said with a scowl.
Brain stood up. “Never said it was. No matter what hang-ups you might have about what you do and who you are, she needs to know that she could be in danger.”
“I know.”
“The Sinaloa Cartel doesn’t fuck around. If they want her dead, it’ll take a miracle to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Brain said solemnly.
Trigger ground his teeth. He turned to leave, but he had one more question. He looked back at his friend. “Did they really hijack an international flight just to kill some border agent who was working with a rival drug cartel?”
Brain sighed and shook his head. “Doubtful. As far as the DEA can tell, it was a distraction from their main goal. Smuggling eight hundred kilos of cocaine and meth out of Venezuela. Sinaloa stole it from the Cartel of the Suns. While the world’s attention, and that of the leaders of Venezuela, were on the airport, they loaded up a ship with the drugs and sailed away without so much as a second glance from the authorities. ”
Trigger could only shake his head. All those deaths because of drugs. Well, more accurately, because of money. He’d never understand it. “Thanks for the heads up,” he told Brain.
His friend brushed off his thanks. “Your best bet is to move her up here to Killeen so we can keep an eye on her.”
Trigger snorted. “You really think that’s gonna happen? You did hear me say that she’s independent and smart, right?”
Brain smiled fully for the first time. “Yup. You’ll just have to convince her. Show her some…leg…or something.”
Trigger rolled his eyes and turned to walk out of his office. He knew there wasn’t a chance in hell of convincing Gillian to move in with him, even for her own safety. But he couldn’t deny the thought of having her in his space was pretty fucking appealing.
Gillian stood in front of her bathroom mirror and stared at her reflection.
She looked damn good, if she did say so herself.
She was going out with Ann, Wendy, and Clarissa tonight and had dressed for the occasion.
She had on a pair of tight jeans that hugged her ass and thighs, high-heel sandals with sparkly crystals, which made them look fancier than they really were.
She also picked her favorite black wrap shirt, which hugged her boobs and gave her a ton of cleavage.
She’d used a heavier hand with her makeup than usual and put on her favorite necklace, a two carat—fake—diamond, which rested right in the middle of her chest, bringing attention to the aforementioned cleavage.
Her hair fell in curls around her face, and even though Gillian knew they’d probably come out by the end of the night, at least she’d start out the evening looking good.
Sighing, she leaned on her hands on the counter and bowed her head. Now, if only she felt as good as she looked.
Three weeks. It had been three weeks since her ordeal in Venezuela, and in some ways it still seemed like yesterday.
Her parents had insisted on flying in to make sure she was all right, and the week they’d stayed had done her a lot of good.
She wasn’t used to being the center of attention, and talking to the press made her extremely nervous, but her mom had reassured her that the information she’d shared with the reporters was concise and clear without going into too much detail, which was a huge relief.
She’d been embarrassed by the way a few of the other passengers had gushed over what a good job she’d done under pressure, but again, her parents being there was a good distraction from everything.
But, ultimately, even the affection and pampering her mom and dad had showered on her couldn’t take away all the bad memories of what had happened.
She was still sleeping with the lights on in her apartment and she started at every little sound.
She’d fallen back into her old routine, more or less, which was good…
but a tiny part of her died inside when she didn’t hear from him.
She’d expected him to be busy right when she’d gotten back home, but with every day that passed without a phone call or even an email, she’d begun to think the connection she’d felt was one-sided.
She’d been so sure they’d connected on a level she’d never felt with anyone else. He said he’d be in touch…hadn’t he? She doubted the possibility more and more.
Intellectually, she knew it was unlikely she’d hear from Walker Nelson again.
He’d just been doing his job. If he was special forces, he did that kind of thing all the time.
Probably rescued hundreds of people. He was probably, even now, on another mission, rescuing someone else.
Why would he want to get back in touch with her?
Just because she’d felt a connection with him didn’t mean he felt the same.
She was being stupid.
Gillian knew she was a romantic, and that was why she hoped every day when she got up in the morning that today would be the day.
Walker would somehow find her number and call or text her, saying he wanted to see her again.
Or he’d be waiting for her outside her apartment complex, leaning casually against the wall, and he’d tilt his chin up in greeting when he saw her.
Huffing out a breath, Gillian stood straight and smoothed her shirt. No, it was obvious that wasn’t going to happen. He’d moved on, and she needed to as well.
Her phone dinged with a text, and she grabbed it from the counter and saw she had a few messages she’d missed while she was showering and getting ready.
The first was from Janet. She’d kept in touch after the hijacking, and Gillian loved hearing updates about her daughter Renee.
At first the young girl had been traumatized, but after seeing a therapist, Janet reported that she was starting to be more like the girl she’d been before their ordeal.
She’d attached a picture of Renee to the text.
She was hanging upside down from a set of monkey bars.
The smile on her face made Gillian grin.
The text accompanying the picture said, Because of you, I’ve got my girl back.
She was uncomfortable with the praise. When all the hostages had been corralled together in a room in the airport in Caracas, waiting to be interviewed individually, they’d talked about everything that had happened.
And when the CIA and FBI had arrived to interview them, they’d somehow given the passengers the impression—or maybe it was the hostages who’d given the Feds the impression—that Gillian had been their leader, of sorts.
That it was because of her that so many people had survived the ordeal.
Shaking her head, Gillian read the next text.
It was from Andrea. She lived in Austin as well, but she wasn’t ready to meet back up in person yet.
Gillian knew she was struggling because of the sexual abuse she’d endured at Luis’s hands, and how traumatized she’d been when Luis had tried to force her to go with him.
Earlier, Gillian had sent her a short text letting Andrea know she was thinking about her. Andrea had replied with, Thanks. I’m doing better and I’ll be in touch soon. I really do want to be strong enough to give you a hug in person.
There was one more text, from Alice, the young woman who’d originally sat next to Gillian on the flight from Costa Rica.
She and her husband had both survived and were putting their lives back together in Washington state.
They didn’t correspond often, but Gillian was glad to hear from her, even if it was only Alice saying that they’d moved into a new apartment complex, one with twenty-four/seven security.
As she was reading her texts, Gillian’s phone vibrated with another incoming message. This time from Wendy.
Wendy: Have you left yet? Quit overthinking shit and get your ass to the bar. We’ve got your first margarita waiting for you!
Smiling, Gillian shot back a quick note letting her friend know she was on her way, then she turned her back on her reflection and headed out of the bathroom. She grabbed her crossbody purse from her unmade bed and put the strap over her head.
She was walking into her living area when there was a knock on her door.
Stopping in her tracks, Gillian made a conscious effort to slow her heart rate. She didn’t often get people at her door uninvited, but it happened. There was a buzzer that people were supposed to use to get into the building, but sometimes they slipped behind another resident.
Cautiously, and as quietly as possible, Gillian tiptoed to her door and peered through the peephole.
Shocked beyond belief at the person she saw standing there, Gillian fumbled with the locks as she tried to turn them. Her hands were shaking, and she couldn’t get the door open fast enough.
“Hi,” she said when she was finally face-to-face with the man she thought she’d never see again.
“Hi,” Walker Nelson returned.
Gillian inwardly sighed. If she thought he looked good dressed in his black commando gear with black paint smeared on his face, it was nothing compared to the vision that was standing on her doorstep right that second.