Читать книгу Redeeming Travis - Kate Welsh - Страница 10

From the shadow of an abandoned warehouse Major Patricia Streeter aimed her camera. Through her telephoto lens she saw the pilot she’d been following hand over an oversize duffel bag to a dark, swarthy man, then take a briefcase in exchange. The transaction took only as long as it took to shoot five quick images of the two men—evidence in her current investigation.

Captain Taylor, one of seven pilots who called themselves the Buccaneers, opened the briefcase and shook his head, his blond hair glinting in a sliver of sunlight that cut through the alley. “This isn’t nearly enough. What are you trying to pull?” she heard him shout.

The second man turned a bit more away from her. Tricia strained to hear him but she could only see him gesture in a way that said “Calm down.” Then he shrugged as he said something else that was as equally indiscernible.

“Fine,” Taylor snapped. “You’re just a messenger. So message this, pal. You tell your boss he’d better get in touch with mine. He has as much, if not more, to lose than the rest of us. It wouldn’t be a good thing if people found out he isn’t the good guy they all think he is. You tell him this waiting for full payment is making El Patrón mighty angry.” The taller of the two men by far, Taylor grabbed the other man’s jacket. “We’re sick of dealing with his threats! We’re your boss’s bread and butter. He’d be smart to take better care of us. Without the Bucs he has no pipeline, and it takes more than he’s giving to keep that pipeline open. El Patrón wants a show of faith. A bigger one than this.”

The man now in possession of the duffel bag nodded and backed away with another muttered word that scudded through the alley. Patricia snapped a full-frontal picture of this newest subject’s dusky face when he turned toward her.

As the conversation played in her mind, she thought, It was drugs that got you killed, Ian, wasn’t it? Once again Tricia promised her absent friend that she wouldn’t rest until his wife and daughters had justice—until he had justice. Since the meeting was obviously a drop, she decided to change locations and move back to the street where she could see the license plate on the car the dark-complected man drove. Maybe, if she got lucky, she’d even be able to follow him to his boss.

She pivoted, doubled back around the crates and up the side alley. Hunkering down and watching the ground so she wouldn’t trip, Tricia ran swiftly toward the street. And smacked headlong into a wall.

The grunt she heard before the impact sent reverberations down her spine and told her the wall wasn’t built of brick, mortar or steel. It was fashioned of all-too-alive flesh and bones. Ready to take down her opponent, she looked up and into the glittering green eyes of the only man she’d ever loved. The man who’d betrayed her by caring more for his needs than hers. The man who’d turned away from her and married her roommate within weeks of her refusing his proposal. She dropped her gaze to his jaw and found it was as rock solid as that annoyingly stubborn chin of his.

Which meant he was furious.

Furious? What did he have to be furious about? And what was he doing there—in the middle of her investigation? “Travis,” she hissed, “what are—”

Travis Vance’s gaze flicked away toward her quarry, his eyes widening. Then he ground out a low curse, dragged her against him and whirled her around, pressing her back into the cold steel of the warehouse wall. Instantly she became aware of his body heat through her heavy black turtleneck sweater. It disturbed her to be so close to him. Then her vision blurred as his lips descended to hers—lips that were no less furious than the look in his eyes had been.

She grabbed at the fabric of his jacket to shove him away but heard a man’s chuckle. “Get a room, amigo,” the same man said in a heavy Hispanic accent. Then his footsteps receded, followed by yet another set moving off in the opposite direction. Her pilot was headed back to his car.

Angry at being manhandled, Tricia balled the hand not gripping his jacket into a fist and drove it into Travis Vance’s solar plexis.

“Oomph,” he huffed, and stepped back in a hurry, his hand replacing her fist as she shoved him back yet another step.

She stared at him in silence—a silence she couldn’t seem to break—her mind having short-circuited the second her gaze locked with his. How could all the feelings she’d thought had long ago faded be so alive and vital after well over a decade?

He wasn’t even the same person she’d loved so helplessly in college. In Travis’s intense green gaze, where once there had been only vitality and generosity, there was such overwhelming emptiness and bitterness. Oh, his hair still looked as ruffled as ever, but his brow was furrowed from too many years of frowning. Her fingers itched to trace his square jaw and see if that slow grin still pulled his full bottom lip into an expression that could only be described as cocky. But she had an idea his mouth rarely smiled in any way these days and the black hair at his temples was finely threaded with gray. Still, it was clear that time had been kinder to his looks than his soul.

“What did you hit me for?” he asked, still gasping and rubbing his stomach.

It was easy to retrieve her anger. “Don’t try to act so amazed or as if you didn’t deserve it! What did you think you were doing?” she demanded, flexing her hand behind her back. His six-pack abs were certainly as well developed as ever.

“Did I offend you?” He raised his left eyebrow and his lips did the exact thing she’d wished for moments earlier. That cocky grin emerged from the shadow of the past years. “You’ve changed, sweet cakes. Time was you’d have thanked me for saving your cute little—”

“Don’t say it!” she cut in, silencing what she was sure was a word she’d rather not hear. On top of calling her sweet cakes, she’d probably shoot him. The oaf! The creep! The snake! “Believe me, Travis, I understand that the kiss was nothing but a diversionary tactic. I wasn’t born yesterday. I meant, what are you doing here?”

His eyes narrowed. “Where exactly is here?”

“The middle of my investigation. You just blew my chance for that Hispanic guy’s license plate. I’d have known who he is by six tonight if you hadn’t gotten in my way. Maybe even where he was headed if I’d had the chance to follow him.”

A muscle in his jaw flexed but he maintained his smart-alecky air. “Maybe I just happened along.”

Tricia propped her sore hand on her hip. “Why don’t I believe you? You almost gave me away.”

He smirked. That was the only description that fit his insolent, slightly crooked grin. “I believe it was you who ran into me. You really ought to watch where you were going, Ms. Streeter.”

“That’s Major Streeter, AFOSI. Air Force Office of Special Investigations, in case you don’t know. Now answer me,” she demanded. “What are you doing here? You followed someone. Which of them was it and why?”

“I’m doing a little legwork on behalf of my brother and a friend. That’s all you need to know. It’s a free country. And before you try to dissuade me the way you did Sam, I’ll save you the trouble. I don’t have a boss to order me off a case I’ve decided to pursue or to threaten me with suspension.”

She knew he was referring to the fact Sam Vance, Travis’s younger brother, a Colorado Springs police detective, had been ordered off the investigation into the murder of AFOSI’s Major Ian Kelly. Ian’s body had been moved clear across Colorado Springs from Peterson Air Force Base and dumped behind the Chapel Hills Mall but AFOSI DNA evidence proved his murder had taken place on the base, so the Air Force had claimed jurisdiction. And Sam Vance had quietly turned over everything he’d already compiled, but he hadn’t been happy.

It was an awkward situation for Tricia since she attended the same church as the Vances. But she kept getting mental pictures of Ian laughing with his wife and daughters earlier in the summer at a backyard barbecue. He’d deserved so much more than to be executed for just doing his job. She was going to make whoever killed him pay. And no one, not even the former love of her life, was going to get in her way.

She stepped back and stretched to her full five foot nine inches. “You really don’t want to take on the United States Air Force, Travis. AdVance might be an elite name in corporate security and anti-terrorism circles, but compared to the might of the U.S. government, you’re small potatoes. And you’ll lose. Big-time.”

She turned and stalked away. The general was not going to be happy about this when he saw her report. And frankly she couldn’t wait to watch the fallout.

Travis watched Patricia stride off. If he’d asked anyone at school to describe her, they’d have said amiable, shy and maybe even a little guarded. He’d found her appealingly mysterious but vulnerable. And what the air of mystery and timidity hadn’t done to draw him, her long auburn tresses, short straight nose and wide golden-brown eyes had.

Now he found himself absolutely bowled over by all the changes in her. In his mind, she’d stayed the quiet girl of barely twenty who’d broken his heart. Now he knew she’d gone on—without him. She’d changed so much. She had curves where there’d been none to speak of. Her exceptional hair was now cropped short in what could only be called a nonstyle. But the biggest change of all was that the quiet self-contained young woman he’d known had disappeared and become open, candid about her intentions and nearly volatile. He rubbed his stomach. Maybe nearly was a bit too hopeful an adjective. The young woman who’d brought out his every protective instinct was gone and in her place was a warrior in her own right.

Remembering that old Patty and the one personality quirk that had probably foreshadowed all the changes he saw, he listened for the sound of her car. Sure enough, the familiar six-second heavy rev of an engine reached his ears. Ah, the sound of Patty Perturbed. He grinned, wondering if she still drove with the same edgy recklessness she’d had in college.

Travis caught himself smiling and scowled. Unfortunately, he had a whole lot more to wonder about than her driving. Like if he’d lost his mind when he’d touched her—when that same electric spark he remembered so well from college shot through him once again. Like why matching wits with Patricia Streeter had felt so good.

What was it about her?

In those few moments with her in his arms, he’d felt more alive than he had in years. It was as if that first touch had reawakened all the feelings he’d once had for her. As if all those feelings had been hiding deep inside his frozen heart.

He took a breath and huffed it out in an explosive burst. Why had he been so angry when he’d realized who it was he held in his arms? Could all that latent anger be a sign that he hadn’t really gone on with his life when he’d married? Had he been unfaithful to his wife in his heart?

Allison.

Her dark, accusing eyes were burned into his memory. How many times had she charged him with carrying his love for Patty so deep inside that he couldn’t dislodge it? Had she been right? Believing she’d been wrong was the one thing about their doomed marriage he’d been able to take comfort in.

No! He wouldn’t do this to himself. Not again. He had come to love Allison and most especially he’d loved their daughter, Natalie. He could still see them as they’d pulled out of the drive that fateful Saturday morning. Identical creamy complexions and raven-black hair, Natalie, so innocently unaware of the tension between her parents. Allison wearing all the tension in her expression that he was trying so hard to hide from their child. Natalie had waved and laughed with excitement and anticipation of a week at her grandparents’ house on Lake Henry in New York. Allison hadn’t even acknowledged his presence, having refused a ride to the airport.

A week later they’d been gone. A boating accident took all four in a moment’s carelessness on the part of a teen taking his friends out for a spin in his father’s boat. Travis had envied his in-laws their quick deaths. They’d never known the grief and guilt Travis had.

He didn’t even blame the kid who’d been at the helm of the speedboat. Since that day he’d had too many moments of inattention at the wheel of his car, which was potentially just as deadly as that boat had been. The only ones to blame for their deaths were God and himself.

God’s failure was obvious. He should have reached out His hand and saved them. That’s all it would have taken, and Travis couldn’t get past that.

And his own culpability? Just as easy to define.

If he’d been a better husband, Allison would have been at home with Natalie and not on that boat with her parents. The separate vacation had been Allison’s way of trying to force him to give up the police force. But he’d been just as determined to remain the person he was. No compromises for Travis Vance. And because he hadn’t been willing to consider a change in career, his wife and child had died.

In the long run, when grief, anger and guilt had all but consumed him, the job hadn’t been important at all. He’d walked away and hadn’t looked back. In fact, AdVance Security and Investigations had grown almost by itself.

His father had asked him to evaluate the security at a friend’s company. Plans for a new product had been stolen. The CEO had wanted to find the leak and prevent it from happening again. Travis did both and got hooked on the available technology and ways to prevent corporate espionage.

And the rest was history. AdVance kept him busy three hundred and sixty-five days a year with several regular corporate accounts and a few special assignments interspersed. This favor he was doing for Sam was just such an assignment.

He climbed behind the wheel of his car, forcing himself to think only about the case. A syndicate called Diablo was operating in Colorado Springs and poisoning the town. They were selling street drugs, not the stylish designer drugs of rich and famous vacationers CSPD was used to dealing with. Consequently the city had exploded with a rash of robberies and murders. Drug arrests and drug-related domestic abuse calls were up, as well.

And it looked as if Diablo had ties to the group responsible for the shooting of Dr. Adam Montgomery, Travis’s childhood friend. They’d caught the guy directly responsible, but he’d been killed in jail before cracking. Sam had been pulling his hair out before and since and getting nowhere fast. Then a break. An Air Force officer with AFOSI was found murdered. Executed really, his body dumped behind the Chapel Hills Mall. And scribbled on a crumpled piece of paper in his pocket was the name Diablo and La Mano Oscura, the Venezuelan drug cartel Sam thought controlled Diablo.

But then the Air Force had swooped in, claiming jurisdiction, saying Kelly had been killed on base. They’d promised to let the CSPD in on anything they found out about Diablo or its possible ties to La Mano Oscura. But Sam wasn’t convinced. If Air Force pilots were involved, who knew if they’d admit it outside military circles? So Travis had offered to “keep his eyes and ears open” but they’d both known what that meant. Travis was on the case.

Travis narrowed his eyes as he put the car in gear and started toward home. Wouldn’t Sam have known the name of the Air Force investigator he’d lost the Kelly case to? He had to wonder if he’d been set up by his well-meaning brother. Well, no matter. He’d had to run into Patty Streeter sooner or later. She’d been in town for at least six months now. His mother had made a point to mention several times that Patty was stationed at Peterson Air Force Base and was a member of Good Shepherd Church. He’d seen them all watching for his reaction, too. He was proud to say that reaction had been negligible. Patty, or as his mother referred to her, Tricia, was in his past.

He chuckled mirthlessly as he turned onto Platte Avenue on his way home to Manitou Springs. Until a few minutes ago he’d actually believed that rubbish.