16. Alpha Caveman
ALPHA CAVEMAN
EXTON
“Did you try to ping it?”
“No. I need a device or computer for that.”
I hand mine back to her. “Signal isn’t great right here, but you should have bars. If it doesn’t work for you, we’ll head toward the barn.”
“This brain fog is insane. It’s like I’ve been up for two days with only a thirty-minute nap.
You know, just enough time that you feel sick?
It’s like I’m supposed to remember something that keeps flitting off-screen.
I catch a whiff of a thought, and it’s gone.
How did I not think of my phone until now? ”
“Because I’m an exceptional lover?” I ask playfully.
“Well, there is that.” She rests her finger under her chin like she’s considering options.
I squeeze her palm around my phone. “See what you can find.”
“The signal is crap here,” she says, wandering with the phone lifted into the air like the extra two feet of height will affect it.
“Hop in.” I pat the seat next to me. “We’ll find a better spot.”
“Score one for iCloud and the find my phone app,” she says as we head toward the paddocks and throws her hand out onto my chest. “Stop. I found it. My phone is in”—she turns to stare at me, face blanching of all color—“…my phone is in Dallas.”
I slide it from her hand, before it falls from her grip.
“Deactivate it!” She jumps out of the Gator, pacing, arms gesturing wildly. “Deactivate it!”
“Not yet. This is good.”
“No, it’s not!” Her hands fly wildly before resting on her hips, her gaze lasered onto my face.
Her panic rises. I wish I had the time to study her face, because it says so much—the expression, the fire, the set of her mouth.
It’s stunning. But it lasts only a moment.
She charges me, grabbing for the phone as I hold it out of her reach.
I shouldn’t—I know I shouldn’t—but I start laughing. This only pisses her off more. Without much thought, I grab her face and kiss her hard.
“Fuck, woman, you’re stunning.”
That stops her dead. Until her eyes slit. “Are you trying to piss me off?”
“Settle down, tigress. Your passion is great, but it’s reactionary. Think about strategy instead.”
“I can’t think at all because I’m livid,” she screeches back.
Me: Jon, urgent. Willa’s phone was jacked in the attack. We have a decent lead on it. Can you get a warrant? Dallas County.
Jon: WTF? I’m on it. Will get back to you as soon as I know.
Me: Need something in writing, just in case, since I’m invoking you and the Bureau when I talk to the carrier. Will revert ASAP.
I start a new message thread with a hacker friend of mine from D.C.
Me: Need to place a trace on a phone. Everything you can do to feed info. Don’t tip off the phone.
Marissa: Don’t insult me, Ranger. Give me three minutes.
“Which carrier do you have?” I ask Willa and she tells me. I scroll to their criminal task force line and hit go.
“FBI. B.A. Ranger. D.C. office. Case number forthcoming.” I pause to hear the confirmation I need.
I explain to the agent what has happened and what I need. “I need a new phone for a vic that mirrors this one.” I provide the number. “All texts and calls going in and out, but has all functionality as well. Same number.”
My phone buzzes and I pull it away from my face and put it on speaker.
Marissa: Tracker’s placed. Phone is at 1249 Centennial Drive, Dallas
Me: TY
Me: Can you disable everything except location, phone, and messaging.? Will you thwart any ancillary app usage please and refuse any purchases that are attempted?
Marissa: That’s illegal and requires a warrant.
Me: Is that a no?
Marissa: Nope. Just saying.
Marissa: Done.
Me: I owe you.
Marissa: :) I’ll collect.
“Agent Ranger, this is done. Confirmation 1Z8A33a-BA-202. Please get us your case number within seventy-two hours.”
“I can have that to you tomorrow in the D.C. office.”
“Please send to the Travis County DA’s office.”
Willa gasps, but I continue, “To the attention of Jon Barret.”
“I will need the case number to reroute.”
“Will get it into the system ASAP.”
“Thank you, Agent Ranger. Anything else we can do for you today?”
“No, thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He disconnects.
Willa stops pacing and turns on me. “Don’t go all alpha caveman on me. I want that line canceled.”
I squat down, eye level with her. “And I want to know what they’re thinking and saying while they’re pretending to be you.
I want to know where they are and what they’re doing.
I want to know why they attacked you. You may not like it, Willa, but I will go ‘alpha caveman’ to protect you and this”—I gesture between us with the hand my phone is holding—“is me protecting you.”
She raises to her full height, shoulders thrown back, and holds my gaze.
And promptly crumbles.
She sobs into my shoulder. After a few minutes, she sucks in several deep breaths, exhaling raggedly and pulls back.
“No one’s ever protected me. I don’t know how to…” Her hand waves in circles like she’s trying to swirl a word into existence. “I don’t know how to comprehend that.” Very quietly she adds, “Thank you, Exton.”
I reach up and palm her cheek, rubbing my thumb across its apple, before sliding my hand down to grab hers and leading her back to the Gator. I take us to the paddocks, and we lean against the split rails surrounding it.
“So…” she begins, dragging out that word. “Rodeo?”
“I love my sister, but she loves being a shit-stirrer. I’m surprised she didn’t mention…
” I trail off and lift my brows. “I’m kidding.
And, yes, I did rodeo. We were always involved in something—4-H, FFA, rodeo—in addition to our work here.
We could all manage the ranch.” I turn my body back to the horses.
“Some better than others. Braxton was and remains the obvious choice. His MBA for one. But his passion is the key. This is in his blood. If it were in mine, he’d welcome me as a partner. ”
“It’s not? Your passion, I mean.”
“No. I love the ranch. I love the horses. I love my family. But it takes more than love to handle the ups and downs of this business, the day-in-day-out-ness of it. It’s got to be what drives you. It doesn’t drive me.”
“What does?” she asks, turning her body away from the horses and facing me.
“Protecting what’s mine.”
“Oh.” She turns to prop her arms on the rail again and stares at the setting sun. “What does that mean?”
“That means ROTC to pay for college so my parents didn’t have to. It means fulfilling my time in the Army, because this country is worth it. It means taking my God-given talents and using them to serve my team, my family, my fellow man.”
“That sounds like a stump speech if you were running for office.”
“God, no! I hate politics. But I hate our enemies more.”
“So you’re an agent? Like an investigator?”
I turn to her and hold her gaze, hating this part. I want her. I like her. Hell, I want more with her. And what comes next jeopardizes all of it. “By title? Yes, I’m an agent in the behavior analytics division.”
Her eyes go wide, like she’s impressed at the bomb I dropped. Well, it’s about to go nuclear.
“My specialty though is interrogation and counter-interrogation.”
Her face morphs from wonder to fear. “Torture?”
“No. I train our agents how to avoid revealing information to our enemies and how to read when people are lying to them in examinations. I’m a human lie detector.”
“That’s cool. Like the dad in that Ben Stiller movie?”
Then I see it. Her wheels start turning, and the color blanches from her face. She turns and bolts for the house.
Fuck!