Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
Siren sat in the passenger seat, watching the Montana landscape slide past. Green hills rolled toward the snow-capped mountains. Clusters of wildflowers grew in patches along the roadside.
The van wasn’t armored like her SUV, and she felt the absence of the reinforced panels like missing teeth. The dress felt thin and vulnerable. She kept reaching for her thigh, checking that her holster was still there under the skirt.
Reed glanced at her. “You okay?” he asked. “You keep touching your leg.”
“Checking my weapon.”
He turned back to the road. “I can’t help but picture you at a PTA meeting, checking your piece under a cardigan.”
“We don’t have kids.”
“Yet. We’re thinking about it.”
She drew back her lip, looking at his profile as he drove. He enjoyed building this cover story. It was like a game for him. He liked pretending they were really a married couple on a road trip, contemplating starting a family.
She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Reed had made it clear from day one that he was ready for the relationship. That he wanted all the typical things that men like him wanted. A home. A family. A supportive relationship.
She felt herself disappearing into the vortex of his needs and desires, contorting herself to fit into that fantasy. A fantasy that was a million miles away from the woman she really was. She wouldn’t let it happen. No matter how cute he looked driving the dumb van.
“Where do we live?” he asked.
“Henderson. We already went over this.”
“I mean. What kind of place do we have. An apartment? A house? Do we have a yard?”
Siren considered it. There was nothing else to do but play the game. She could only check the mirrors for a tail so many times every minute. “One bedroom apartment. We’re saving for a house.”
“What kind of house does Sarah want?”
“Something with a garden. She wants to grow tomatoes.”
Reed nodded. “Michael wants a garage so he can work on projects.”
“What kind of projects?” she asked, her curiosity peaking.
“Building things. Bookshelves. Maybe refinishing furniture.” He shrugged. “Michael is practical like that.”
She watched him as he drove, his shaggy hair falling over one eye. She wanted to brush it back. He looked so calm and at ease. So comfortable playing the part of loving husband. Like it was a role he’d waited his entire life to play.
“You’re good at pretending,” she said.
He glanced at her, giving her that easy grin. “I’m not pretending.”
They stopped for gas in a small town near the southern border of Montana. It looked like an even more rustic version of Fate Mountain Village. Old west style buildings lined the main street. Motorcycles sat outside the tourist attractions.
Reed pumped the gas. Siren went inside to use the bathroom and buy snacks. The air was cool and thin and she buttoned up the white cardigan against the chill.
She walked into the convenience store and headed to the rest room.
When she was done, she moved through the aisles, grabbing packages of anything that looked good.
Chips, candy, beef jerky, trail mix. It should tide them over until they stopped in for the night.
She planned to park near Mammoth Hot Springs before heading east in the morning.
She made her way to the register and dropped her snacks on the counter.
The clerk was a woman in her fifties with reading glasses on a chain around her neck.
“You find everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. This is it.”
Reed walked in and his hand found the small of her back as he stepped up beside her. She almost flinched.
“Let me get this, honey. I’m on pump three,” he told the clerk, opening his wallet. He slid his Michael Phillips credit card across the counter as the woman rang up the stacks and gas. She put everything in a bag and handed it to Reed.
He opened the door for Siren as they walked out of the store and then opened her door when they got back to the van, handing her the snacks when she was inside. He closed her door and then climbed into the driver’s seat.
“You flinched when I touched you,” he said, turning on the car. “Sarah wouldn’t flinch.”
Siren sighed.
“Yeah. You’re probably right. I’ll work on that.”
He pulled out of the gas station and made his way back to the highway. Siren checked the windows for a tail but didn’t see any signs of being followed.
“Where did we get married?” he asked, reaching into the bag in her lap for a candy bar.
She opened a bag of trail mix. “Courthouse in Vegas. Small ceremony. My parents weren’t thrilled.”
“They wanted a big wedding. But we were young and impatient.”
She considered this. “Do we regret it? The small wedding?” She was losing herself in the fantasy. But there was nothing else to do. No hostiles to defend against. No interrogations. No research. Might as well pass the time.
“No,” he said, changing lanes. “We talk about renewing our vows sometimes. Doing it right, with all our friends and family. But we never get around to it?”
“Why not?”
“Because the truth is, the first one was perfect. It was just us. And that’s all we ever needed.”
She watched the road unfurl ahead of them. Like the life they were building together inside their minds. The life of two people who didn’t exist.
Several hours later, they stopped at a grocery store near the campground she’d planned, and they stocked up on food supplies. After they’d put everything away, Siren directed Reed to the campground as the afternoon light was fading toward evening.
Reed pulled up to the small office near the entrance and went to check in. He returned a few minutes later with a bundle of firewood tucked under his arm.
“Site 17. She said it’s got a good view.”
He drove the loop slowly, checking the numbers on the posts. Site 17 was near the back, trees on one side and a view of the mountains on the other.
Siren got out and walked the perimeter, checking for site lines and potential weak points. She hadn’t seen any sign of surveillance since Fate Mountain, but she couldn’t let down her guard. Not with Reed to protect and a conspiracy against shifters to solve.
Other campers were spread out along the loop. A retired couple in a silver Airstream were parked two sites down from hers. A family with young kids were tent camping across the way. A solo guy in a truck camper was near the entrance to their loop. None of them set off any alarms.
She went back to their campsite. Reed had a fire going already and the camping chairs set up beside it.
Siren sat down on one of the camping chairs, considering her next move.
It was the first time since the ambush that she had some direction and room to maneuver.
She needed to get in touch with Dom. Tomorrow’s meeting with Garrett Cole would give her further direction.
Tonight, there wasn’t a lot she could do but wait.
The retired couple from the Airstream walked over. The man was tall with white hair. The woman was shorter, rounder, with a cheerful face.
“Evening neighbors,” the man said. “I’m Bob. This is Linda.”
Reed stood from the firepit and shook their hands. “Michael. This is my wife, Sarah.”
Siren nodded, smiling in greeting.
“That’s a nice rig you’ve got there,” Bob said, nodding at the van. “We thought about going that route, but we wanted the separate shower space.”
“Where are you folks from in Nevada?” Linda asked.
“Henderson. It’s a suburb outside of Las Vegas,” Reed said, grinning.
He enjoyed this cover a little too much.
“Oh, how nice. We’re from Minnesota. Headed home after wintering in Arizona,” Linda said.
“Well, you two enjoy your evening,” Bob said.
“We will. You too,” Reed said.
Siren watched the older couple walk back to their Airstream.
“You were quiet,” Reed said, tossing another log on the fire.
“Sarah’s an introvert.”
The sun was setting, casting the campground in golden evening light. “How about spaghetti for dinner?” Reed asked.
“Sounds good. I need to call Dom.”
“I’ll cook,” he said, straightening. “Do what you need to do.”
Siren climbed into the front seat of the van while Reed puttered around in the back. There wasn’t enough privacy anywhere else in the campground to make this call so she settled for letting Reed hear her side of the conversation instead.
Dom answered on the first ring.
“ Situation Report,” he said.
“Package secure. Resupply complete at the Montana contact. New docs, new vehicle, clean plates. Currently mobile, en route to new Wyoming asset.”
“Copy. Status on your cover?”
“Intact. No indication of surveillance since the ambush. I’ve been running counter-surveillance the whole route.”
“Good. Cover story for the package is holding on this end. His father controls his employment, so that’s locked down. Local law enforcement is treating the brewery incident as an isolated homicide. Possible drug connection. Cartel activity in the region makes that plausible.”
“You’re still sitting on the recording?”
“Affirmative. We haven’t identified all potential compromised personnel. Can’t risk the leak.”
“What about Velaria?”
“She’s on board. Her father runs the department, but that’s exactly why she understands the risk. One bad actor and the whole op is blown.”
“Understood.”
“Your Wyoming contact is our best lead on identifying the outfit running these operations. It’s not ideal running an asset meeting with a principal in tow. But if anyone can manage the dual tasking, it’s you.”
“I’ll make it work.”
“Keep me posted. Anything changes, you call it in.”
“Copy. Out.”
She hung up, feeling the weight of her assignment settle onto her shoulders.
When she climbed into the back, Reed set their plates on the table. Dinner was spaghetti with meat sauce and toasted garlic bread.
“Smells good,” she said, inhaling the scent of garlic and parmesan.
She swirled noodles on her fork and took a bite. It was really good and hit the spot.
“I used to make this for my older siblings when they came home, after they all moved out. Mom passed away when I was sixteen. Being the baby of the family, I got to play host while I still lived with Dad.”