Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
Siren woke to the sound of birds twittering outside the van’s windows. Morning light filtered through the curtains and illuminated Reed’s sleeping face. His hair fell across his forehead, making him look soft and adorable.
She watched him for a moment, the memory of the night before washing through her mind. Her wolf growled inside her, reigniting her desire. Her canines lengthened, and she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to push the memory aside.
Last night had been a mistake. Even though she’d done everything in her power to maintain a wall between them, it hadn’t worked. Reed’s beauty and compliance were so alluring and attractive to her that there was no way she could hide from it any longer.
She was on a mission, and allowing the distraction was a temporary lapse in judgment that she wouldn’t allow to happen again.
She slipped out of bed without waking him and started coffee on the small stove. By the time he stirred, she had two mugs ready and she was already dressed in her Sarah Phillips disguise. A pair of white linen slacks, sandals, and a light cotton knit cardigan.
“Morning,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.
“Coffee’s ready. We need to move.”
He didn’t mention last night. Didn’t push for a connection. He just took the mug she offered and started getting ready.
As they drank their coffee and fueled up for the morning, they broke camp. Reed folded the bed back into the dinette configuration, stowed the blankets, and cleaned up the coffee while Siren packed up everything outside.
Bob and Linda were outside their Airstream when they pulled out of their campsite. Linda waved and Bob raised his coffee mug in salute.
“Safe travels, you two,” Linda called.
Siren waved, the cover of their fictional marriage holding strong.
She directed Reed to drive south toward Wild River Range. The landscape shifted from rolling green hills to rougher mountain ranges rising in the distance and capped with snow.
They turned off the main highway and headed deep into Yosemite National Park, Reed at the wheel, while Siren studied Garrett Cole’s background in the files Jackie had provided for them.
“Tell me more about this guy,” Reed said.
“Garrett Cole is an ex-military contractor. He worked jobs adjacent to black ops for fifteen years before he got out. Apparently, he lives off-grid now and is highly paranoid and heavily armed.”
“He sounds charming,” Reed said.
“Clearly. But Jackie says he has information. And this is our best lead right now.”
“How are we going to handle this?”
“The meeting point is a few miles off a trailhead in the forest. I’ll use the recognition code Jackie gave us. Hopefully he’s there when we arrive. If he accepts the code, we’ll talk. If he doesn’t, we leave. Assuming he lets us.”
Reed was quiet for a moment. “And if he doesn’t let us leave?” he asked.
“Then I handle it.”
She glanced at him. He didn’t seem afraid. But she remembered the last time he’d been panicked. If that happened again with Garrett Cole, the situation could go sideways fast. She considered leaving him with the van and tracking by herself.
Leaving him alone and unprotected was unacceptable. But she needed to be sure he wasn’t going to freak out.
“You don’t speak unless I tell you to. You don’t make any sudden movements. And you don’t wild out no matter what. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” he said in a low voice.
They followed the directions deep into the forest to a trailhead at the end of a Forest Service road. It was a gravel parking lot with a trail map on a wooden post. There were no other vehicles. Reed parked and killed the engine.
“We hike from here. It’s about two miles,” she said, checking her watch. Hopefully they would arrive at exactly the right time.
She went to the back of the van and opened her tactical bag.
The Sarah Phillips costume came off, and she changed into cargo pants, a fitted long-sleeve shirt, and hiking boots.
She didn’t bother hiding in the bathroom.
Reed had already seen her naked. She strapped on her shoulder holster, checked her Glock, and added an ankle piece and a knife to her belt.
When she looked up, Reed was watching her.
“What?” she asked.
He shook his head as if he was coming out of a dream. “You just look like yourself again.”
“And?” she said, squinting at him.
“I prefer it.”
She smirked and shoved her Glock into the holster. “Pack your backpack with some water. And bring the field recorder. We may want to play it for Garrett when we get there.”
He nodded and began packing up what she told him to. When they were prepared, they locked up the van and started up the trail.
The terrain was rough. There were rocky outcroppings and dense pine forests with steep switchbacks. Siren watched for surveillance as they climbed. She didn’t see anything, knowing they were still on public land.
Reed kept pace behind her, his shifter endurance showing as they walked up the steep incline.
After about forty minutes, Siren stopped. The coordinates indicated she should leave the public trail and start into the raw forest. Reed stopped beside her. She scanned the tree line, looking for the right place to enter. Finally, she spotted a deer trace and stepped off the public trail.
After another fifteen minutes of carefully plotting through the forest, she came to a clearing, looking for signs of surveillance. She spotted a motion sensor tucked into a tree branch and a trail camera angled to catch their approach. Garrett knew they were here.
“Jackie sent us,” she called out. “The river runs cold in October.”
There was silence. The wind rustled the pines and a bird called in the distance. She checked her watch. She was right on time. Where was he?
Then a voice came from the trees on the far side of the clearing.
“October is a long way off,” the gruff voice said.
“That’s why we’re here now.”
A figure emerged. Garrett Cole. Fifties, maybe older. Lean and weathered. Gray hair cropped short. Eyes that had seen too much and trusted too little.
He had a rifle in his hands, barrel angled down but ready. Siren felt Reed go rigid beside her. The smell of adrenaline hit her nose. Sharp. Immediate.
His bear was surging.
She didn’t look at him. Didn’t draw attention. But she shifted her weight slightly, ready to put herself between them if Reed lost control.
“Jackie said you’d be coming.” Garrett’s voice was flat. “Didn’t say there’d be two of you.”
“He’s with me. A witness. He has information about an outfit running anti-shifter operations.”
While she talked, she listened to Reed breathing. Shallow. Too fast. She could almost feel his bear clawing at the inside of his skin.
Then his breathing slowed. Steadied. The adrenaline smell faded by a degree.
He’d held it. Barely.
Garrett looked at Reed. Looked back at Siren. If he’d noticed anything, he didn’t show it.
“Let’s walk,” he said, and turned into the trees.
He led them through the trees to a secondary location about a quarter mile from the clearing.
There was a small camp in a hollow. A fire ring with cold ashes and a canvas tarp strung between trees for shelter.
There were a few logs to sit on. He clearly didn’t live here. This was more of a meeting place.
Garrett sat on a log and gestured for them to sit across from him. He didn’t offer any food or water. Didn’t make small talk.
“What do you have?”
Siren gave him the outline. The Crown Mountain conspiracy. The sabotage attacks on shifter businesses across the Northwest. Jason Prescott’s arrest. Carl Unger, the bartender who’d been feeding information to someone before they decided he was a liability and took him out.
“We have a recording of the murder,” she said. “Reed.”
Reed pulled the field recorder from his jacket and looked at her for confirmation. She nodded and he hit play.
The sounds of the night filled the clearing. The distant murmur of music bleeding through from inside the brewery. The voices.
“I’ve been patient.” Carl Unger’s voice. “Two years of feeding you everything. Who’s talking. Who’s not. I flagged that dispatcher before she became a problem. I earned my way out.”
Garrett’s face was still as he listened to the recording. When it was over, Reed turned it off. The wind moved through the pines, and nobody spoke.
“That voice,” Garrett said finally. “The handler.”
“Do you recognize it?” she asked.
“No. But I recognize the type.” He rubbed his jaw. “That’s not some thug. That’s someone who’s done this before and will do it again.”
“That’s why we brought this to you. What do you know about PMCs that take anti-shifter contracts?”
Garrett was quiet for a moment, staring at the recorder like it might start talking again.
“There are rumors,” he said. “About private military contractors who’ll take jobs nobody else will touch. Suppression. Intimidation. Elimination. Most of them are bullshit. Cowboys playing soldier, in over their heads.”
He pinned her with his gaze.
“But there’s one outfit that’s different.
They’ve been operating for maybe ten years, and nobody knows who runs it.
Nobody’s ever seen their faces or connected them with a specific operation.
But they take anti-shifter contracts. They execute and they disappear.
No evidence. No witnesses. No loose ends. ”
“Do you recognize someone called the Major?” Siren asked.
Garrett nodded slowly. “That’s what people call whoever’s at the top of this organization. He’s got a military background, obviously. But that’s all anyone knows. He’s a ghost.”
“And Meridian?”
“That’s new to me.” He shook his head. “I’ve never heard that name before. But a PMC like the one I’m thinking of needs a financial pipeline. A way to move money without leaving fingerprints. Meridian could be the name of their funding mechanism.”
He looked at Reed and then back at Siren.
“You recorded a murder committed by people who don’t leave witnesses. You’re both loose ends now. And I can tell that you’re mates.”
Siren glared at him.
“An old mountain lion shifter like me has been around long enough to know the signs when he sees them. You’re connected. You understand what that means to these people, right?”
“I do,” Siren said.
“Do you?” His eyes were hard. “These people have been invisible for a decade. That takes discipline. Resources. Connections. Whoever the Major is, he’s not some weekend warrior playing mercenary. He’s the real thing. And mark my words, they know you exist, and they are looking for you.”
“That’s why we need to find them first,” Siren said, her voice hard.
Garrett almost smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant expression.
“You want to track them? Follow the money. That’s the only way. They get paid. The money moves. And the money always leaves a trail, no matter how careful you are.”
“You’re not giving me anything to work with,” Siren said, the disgust seeping into her voice.
“If Meridian is the financial pipeline, I know someone who might know for sure.” He hesitated, sizing her up.
“Diana Reyes. Forensic accountant. She’s been tracking dirty money flows for years since losing someone important to her.
If this outfit gets paid through any channels that touch the legitimate financial system, she can find the thread. ”
“Where do I find her?”
“Omaha. She runs Reyes Forensic Consulting. Tell her the river still runs. She’ll know what it means.” His eyes hardened. “And don’t bring heat down on her. She’s been doing this work alone for a long time. If you get her killed, I’ll find you.”
Garrett stood. The conversation was over. He looked at Reed for a moment and then at Siren.
“Good luck,” he said. “You’ll need it.”