Behind the Pines (The Gass County Series Book 3) (15 page)

“Ten more minutes, Bryce.”

“Until what? You haven’t said much and I have never used a Taser in my life.”

“Not hard to do, just aim and hold until the person goes to the ground.”

Bryce cracked his neck, shaking away mountains of tension growing within and exhaled a few long breaths. “Sorry, I lashed out. Didn’t mean any of it. Okay, I did mean it, but I wasn’t planning on making it come out the way it did. Okay?”

“Fine, let’s focus on this instead. I know I don’t smile and I’m content with that knowledge. The feeling should be mutual.”

“Deal. Now, let’s do this,” Bryce roared, and pounded his thighs for adrenaline.

The lone road became wider the closer they came to a lone neon sign ahead. Trees thinned out and within a few minutes the road divided itself, one for border patrol, one for the gas station and bistro. Last one standing before leaving the United States. And from what it looked like, possibly the last one standing as an ancient relic from the 1960s. Brody turned off the lights on the car and rolled the cruiser into park at the side of the old cabin-looking building, its wood stained in faded tomato red, colored windows shadowing the life within. Brody and Bryce watched as a meager number of vehicles made their way up to the four gas pumps to fill up their tanks before crossing the border, or cars having just rolled off Canadian soil on expensive gas fumes only to find financial relief on American ground.

After not too long, a cobalt Honda rolled into one of the vacant spots under the tall roof and Brody elbowed Bryce lightly. Without sharing a word, Bryce nodded and waited for another command to go into action. Brody gave none, instead he waited. He knew he had the patience to wait all night should he have to, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done such a deed. When he was too pissed off after holidays, fed up with drunk people fighting in bars or people having a verbal dispute over the last stocking stuffer or Thanksgiving turkey in the store, he’d set up a roadblock at the very end of Main Street, where most people had a lead foot, and deliver sheets of ticket. He’d cook himself vegetable soup and brew himself a tall thermos of coffee and stay seated all night inside his heated cruiser. The only downside was the pain he’d have to withstand the days after. A sore reminder of not only his job but what his injury had done to his body. Still, he wouldn’t change it. Sometimes life sucked, although lately it had been sucking a lot. 

Three men evacuated the vehicle at the pumps, circling it in what seemed like slow motion. Brody poked Bryce’s shoulder, pointing to the top of the tall roof, a camera facing down from one corner. “If they stay parked where they are, we need to look like them when we grab their car.”

They watched two of the men leave the vehicle behind, doughtily walking across the cement only to vanish from view and enter the log cabin. To Brody’s surprise the final man placed the gas handle back on the pump and in a few shorts beats joined the others inside.

“Change of plans,” Brody said, grabbing his rifle from between the seats and his bag from behind him in the backseat before opening his door and heading around to open Bryce’s. He watched Bryce’s face, which was part scared to death, part ready to follow his lead, before ushering him out of the cruiser and locking it behind him.

“This might save us some publicity,” he mentioned in haste and with the rifle held down by his leg, matching his urgent stride, he walked around the gas pumps until he came up to the blue Honda they’d just been watching. “No need to slow things down,” he continued, “get in the passenger seat and let’s go.”

The two jumped into the unlocked vehicle and to their fortune found the key still in place. The Honda revved to life and as Brody backed the car out of the vicinity, Bryce turned his face between the seats and whispered, “Three men are currently jogging down the cement walkway possibly yelling profanities. One is already pushing a phone to his ear.”

“You didn’t mention a weapon. That’s a good thing.”

“I guess so.”

“We could be dead by now, you know.”

“You actually thought we weren’t going to make it?”
Brody hunched his shoulder. “Could really have gone either way. Good thing we have vests.”

“But what if they’d aimed somewhere else but our chests?”
Brody sat silent for a minute before he answered. “Yeah, that wouldn’t have been so good.”

“I can’t believe you do these adventures daily not knowing if you’ll make it home at the end of the day. Hats off to you, man.”

Brody felt the friendly bump to his shoulder but somehow it rattled his entire insides. No one had ever given him a compliment for the job he did every day, not Fiona, not his parents. Yet, he loved the job. Unless Sunshine pleaded him to.
Where the hell did that come from?
Brody tried to swallow but his mouth only found dust.

“Drink this and calm down. You look like you’re about to have a panic attack or something. You’re eyes are the size of golf balls and you’re white as a ghost. Chill, I promise I won’t say anything sentimental again.”

Anxiety spread but fortunately Brody found something to do, fidgeting with the GPS in the car.

“For both our safety, Officer, I should handle the technical equipment while your eyes stay on the road. At this speed one wrong turn would mean we’d be mashed-up Honda soup similar to the couple I picked up last week from an intersection. No can do.”

Brody pushed down the gas pedal of the four-cylinder car and prayed another cop wouldn’t be hiding somewhere nearby, as he would have been.

“The GPS has two different end destinations, Brody. Which one do you think we should follow?”

“Where are they located?”

“One is another border entrance, the other a road with a number.”

“The sole number and road, only an idiot would try to create a hostage situation close to border patrol officers.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was morning. Birds sang in the trees and meadows, but Sunshine was still sound asleep, happily dreaming that the window to her room was open and cheerful birds played around her bed. Suddenly, there in her dream was Brody, his back against her, unbuttoning his uniform, a shoulder baring itself, then another, until the shirt fell onto a nearby chair. “Sunny,” he whispered. “Do you want me?”

“Yes, I do,” she said. Then a cold rush of water washed her dream away and in surprise she scrambled against the wall of the cabin, noticing where she was. She looked around. “Oh,” she panted heavily, holding her hand to her chest, noting her handcuffs were still in place. No wonder she hadn’t been able to defend herself against the cold shower that had shaken her from a night’s unruly sleep.

“About time you get up.” A door slammed shut and in a few heartbeats it reopened and she was met by another cascade of icy water until her T-shirt was soaked through.

“I’m up!” she yelled, spitting cold water from her lips. “You idiot.”

A hand came down hard and pressed her face into the pool of watery spit she’d just released on the floor. “Just shut up, Sunshine. I can’t wait to get rid of you. If I wasn’t getting paid for this, I would’ve had the pleasure of doing so myself. You’re a despicable whore. Remember that.” His hand let up, and with metal bucket in hand he left the cottage and Sunshine alone. She counted the next seconds as heaven.

The wind whistled wistfully around the cabin. Sunshine had so much information to consider that she didn’t notice the darkening clouds killing the sun’s warm rays that had so recently given her morning a glorious start until a raindrop plopped on the cabin’s tin roof. One more, then another, until the heavens opened up and showered the cabin. The door flung open and Anthony rushed inside, covering his head with the top of his jacket. The simple door slammed shut behind him, and with his hand he brushed off water droplets from his clothing.

“Do you have anything I can wear except this?” Sunshine looked down at her chest, the wet T-shirt sat glued to her cold skin, goosebumps covering her entire being, nipples hard as rocks poking the fabric.

“You’ll do fine. This type of trading will go better off with you wearing less. Keep staying cold and showing those,” he said, staring at her wet chest, “and you can make me a very good deal.”

Brody rolled into park with the lights turned off. This was not how he wanted his day to go, yet he wanted exactly this. It was hard to describe, he simply wanted the day to be over and go in his favor. He wasn’t sure if anyone had followed them or if the suspects already knew how to find the end destination without help from the GPS tracker, but he wasn’t too keen on finding out. Bryce finally stopped hyperventilating in the passenger seat and had opened the car door as soon as they had stopped to let a cascade of irregular-colored vomit splatter across the mossy dark ground at their feet. No wonder, after all he had previously eaten, in hunger and sheer anxiety, it was bound to be ejected sooner or later. Brody was impressed Bryce hadn’t behaved worse for someone who had never dealt with this side of the job. Brody hadn’t had to slap him across the face, yet. Brody opened the door and got out, his boots crunching in the frosted grass. His warm, steady breath produced a white cloud of mist and he turned to find Bryce standing up, wiping his mouth.

“About ready?” Brody asked as he walked back toward the trunk of the car and unlocked it.

“Is that such a wise choice? Opening someone else’s trunk? Especially someone in the human trafficking industry?”

Brody listened but followed questioned his friend’s actions and in a second he had the trunk open. He was fortunate—no dead bodies, and none alive, for that matter. Silently Brody thanked the Gods above and closed the trunk.

”I just had to make sure. I’m not sure I could have forgiven myself if I would have accidentally left another person behind because of fear of opening a trunk. Backside of being in law enforcement, wanting to keep everyone safe, or maybe it’s just plain curiosity.”

Bryce pushed himself away from the car and closed his door. Dawn had yet to fully awaken and in silence they both watched the dense forest stretch and yawn for the possible adventures ahead.

Brody motioned to a slight incline in the terrain and with his rifle at his side and Bryce holding a steady hand on the Taser at his belt, they walked with heavy steps in the moist grass, away from the vehicle, following a steady stream of water so cold it created a dust of snowflakes at the ridge of the rocks halfway submerged in water.

Not even a mile away Brody touched Bryce’s shoulder, signaling to stop. The forest hadn’t yet created a clearing around the small eerie cabin. Cabin was overrated, larger tool shed used during the time of the gold rush was a better resemblance.

Suddenly the door to the hut swung open, slamming the side of the house hard enough to rattle its hinges. Brody watched the man, apparently Haines himself, jog down to the chilled stream to fill a metal bucket, only to dash back and reenter the building with the same excessive force as he had left it.

”He seems like a dashing fellow,” Bryce mumbled from behind Brody’s back at the same time a shrill voice came from inside the hut. Brody bit down hard on the inside of his mouth. He knew that voice and wished he could have heard it in a different fashion, preferably when he’d let his fingers dance over her skin or when Hayley had managed to create the sound of pleasures. He’d take that any day. The door reopened slightly and a hand tossed out the empty pail and with a clinking sound it landed on the pebbles covering the ground and then rolled down the hill and hit a rock at the side of the creek.

“Are you gonna stand there all day or can we be done and over with this sometime soon?”

Brody returned his line of vision to the hut only to find Haines, in full law-enforcement uniform, standing wide-legged, hands on his hips, eyeing them both in almost tangible irritation. Bryce whispered over Brody’s shoulder as they walked closer to the enraged man, who tapped the dirt and rocks below his feet with the heavy sole of his work boots. “Keep your jacket on. Don’t want him to see your uniform. Awkward would be the least, I’d say.”

Brody cursed his lack of thoughtfulness, not remembering to change his attire before they had left the car at the end spot.

“So?” Haines motioned. Brody stood frozen, for the first time in his career not able to form a coherent piece of conversation. Instead his eyes wandered over Haines’s shoulder toward the closed cabin door.

“You want to see before purchasing? Is that how this works?” Haines, crumbling in insecurity, exchanged looks with Bryce and Brody before turning back to the cabin.

“Of course. You haven’t been informed about this, you mean?” Bryce stepped around Brody, answering in his silence.

“I know you have transferred part of your payment and that after you leave, the rest will be paid as well. And for that, I am pleased. Now, let’s get this over with. This bitch is driving me crazy.” Haines walked up to the front door but before opening, he turned and grinned. “I have prettied her up a bit for you.”

The cabin engulfed the three men and left them standing in a half circle inside the tight confinement. “This is she. You can call her want you want. I call her Bitch. Previously known as Sunshine.”

Brody swallowed hard and stared down at the shivering body of the once strong woman who’d told him off, fended for herself, and lifted bales of hay and bags of flour as a daily workout. Her head was covered with a white cloth bag, her arms pinned at her back, though she continuously struggled to escape the bounds. Her white T-shirt too large for her thin frame and with only one look at Bryce, Brody killed any intention of staring at what was presented: soaked textile and hard nipples poking the chilled fabric. Brody coughed and straightened and gave his all to hold his feelings at bay. He was not yet willing to have a “murder by rifle” under his belt, but it wouldn’t take much more than this. He walked around Sunshine, checking the inventoryHe knew every part of that body, and he had only had one evening to memorize it all in case the future never gave him a chance to repeat the moment. Every goose bump on her skin had traveled below his fingertips, the nipples had teased his tongue. He coughed once more and turned to Haines.