ANOMALY.MIL (The Conspiracy Series Book One): A Romantic Suspence Novel (15 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

General Hawkins stared at the leader of his best Delta unit, trying to conceal his irritation.

"Catherine Miller…was taken? Again?"

"Yes, General," the man confirmed. "We caught up to Mrs. Miller in Montana, as I've previously stated. She was still with the group of men who extracted her from her home. Once we found them," the captain shrugged, "they were quickly subdued."

Yes, with Captain Holstad in charge, they would be.

"And yet Catherine Miller is not here in my office," the general growled.

"No, sir. I'm afraid she is not." The captain looked down, contrite. "And I take full responsibility for not bringing her in when—"

General Hawkins sighed, then walked to his desk chair and sat down. "What happened to her, Captain Holstad?"

"Ansel Babineaux happened, sir."

The general looked at the captain’s myriad of injures. The swollen left cheek. The blood still caked in the captain's white-blond hair. "How did Ansel Babineaux find out that we were involved in his sister's abduction?"

"Unknown, sir."

"Isn't he a friend of yours?" the general asked, suspicious.

The captain nodded. "Ansel and I have worked together on many occasions and become friendly. Yes, sir. However, I'm not friendly with his sister, and if Catherine Miller is involved in activities counter to this country’s interests…" The young man shook his head. "No amount of friendship would prevent me from performing my duty, as I think my service record will show."

It did. They both knew that Captain Holstad had put his life on the line for this country, time and time again.

"Very well, Captain." The general squinted, looking more closely at the heroic Delta Force leader. "You know Sergeant Babineaux better than anyone…How would you go about finding him?"

"The captain must have been waiting for us at that truck stop," Captain Holstad speculated. "But the satellite was unable to capture any images, because they were blocked by the canopies covering the gas pumps. However, if we were to follow the vehicles that left the truck stop shortly after the ambush…We might get lucky, sir."

"Go. Do it," General Hawkins nodded, and the captain turned to leave. "However," the general added, stopping the legendary Gunner Holstad in his tracks. "I would be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed in you, Captain."

"As you should be, sir." The man held his eyes, and the general could detect not one whiff of deception.

The general nodded. "Keep me informed."

"Yes, sir, General Hawkins."

The door closed when the captain left and it was several minutes before it opened again. The general didn't even look up.

"Did you hear all of that?"

"Yes, sir," Inez said.

"Is that how it happened at the gas station?"

The general watched his lithe sergeant as she walked toward him, taking a seat in one of his many office chairs.

"Their vehicle arrived at the truck stop at approximately fourteen-thirty. The team remained there for approximately ten minutes before they were ambushed by a large, dark-haired male. This was confirmed by two witnesses.

“The witnesses also saw that same dark-haired man take a 'pretty' woman out of the back of Captain Holstad’s vehicle. This dark-haired man had a gun, so the witnesses did not attempt to follow him. Therefore, they had no idea which vehicle the man fled to, as the other side of the gas station was totally unaware of the abduction taking place on the far side."

The general nodded, satisfied with the captain's incident report. "Thank you, Sergeant Mun—"

"However," she continued, her dark eyes shining bright. "When I spoke with the doctor who treated the men’s injures when they returned to base…"

“Yes.” Clever girl. General Hawkins smiled. "What did this doctor have to say?"

"The doctor determined that all of the wounds sustained by the team were consistent with Captain Holstad's account of the events at the station." His sergeant raised a dark brow. "Except one." Anticipation pulled the general forward in his seat. "The gunshot wound to the large one."

"Sergeant Caffrey?"

"The wound to Sergeant Caffrey's backside was superficial." Inez licked her lips, excited. "And over twelve hours old."

The general scoffed, his thoughts easing him back in his chair. "That's very interesting, Sergeant Munoz."

"Yes, it is," Inez nodded.

"I want a surveillance on Captain Holstad's team, all of them. And report back to me if you see the slightest indication that they are lying."

Because if they were, no amount of past deeds would stop him from bringing them in and making them regret their deception.

***

Gunner was a suspicious person. Whether by nature or the years of hunting bad guys, he wasn't sure. But he did know that the meeting with the general had gone perfectly. So perfectly, in fact, that it made him nervous. Nervous that they had made a mistake.

He ran over the events at the gas station in his mind. They had done their best in the short amount of time they were given to set up the ambush, and there were always things that were out of your control. But they had done their homework. Had made sure that the three of them were seen on the surveillance cameras while the ambush was not.

Joe, the man that had beaten them to Catherine Miller, had played the part of Ansel, while Joe's two sisters had played the part of Catherine, and witness number one, with the male witness coming from Joe's own security department at Descendants.com.

The injuries inflicted on them at the truck stop had come courtesy of one Win Caffrey, who graciously volunteered to beat the shit out of Drew and himself.

Dick.
Gunner rubbed his cheek, wincing.

The sun about blinded him when he pushed open the front door of the base command Headquarters. He was walking to his car when he spotted the communications building and had an idea.

The general left the base frequently. If Gunner could find out where he went, maybe they could figure out why they wanted Catherine Miller so much.

Gunner walked into the building, and no one dared ask why the infamous Captain Holstad was there. He walked down a labyrinth of halls until he came to the office of Lieutenant Susan Nettles. He entered without knocking, and then closed the door for some privacy.

"Good morning, Lieutenant."

Suzy looked up from her computer and smiled. Gunner had slept with her a few times when he returned from a long mission, horny and in need of some company. The lieutenant made it quite clear that she wanted to provide that company again, and on a much more regular basis.

"Captain Holstad," she smiled, recalling their carnal encounters.

"I was wondering if you could do me a favor, Lieutenant Nettles?"

"That depends on the favor," she said, her eyes roaming, and he knew this favor was gonna cost him.

"I need General Hawkins' cell phone number."

Her eyes went wide at the enormity of the request.

Gunner walked around the desk and whispered in her ear, "You understand that this request is strictly confidential." Suzy nodded, and he could see her breath getting shallow. "I'm currently working with the general, and I lost his number. Can you look it up for me?"

He kissed her on the neck so she would, but also so he could read the computer monitor over her right shoulder.

"Gunner, I'm not—"

"I know." He kissed her on the collarbone and she trembled. "I just don't want to have to ask the general to repeat it. I’d feel like a complete jackass."

"Oh, Gunner. That's ridicul—"

"Please," he whispered in her ear, and that’s what did it. He watched her dissolve into the chair.

She typed the request into the computer, and he got out his smartphone to input the general’s number. "Are you ready?"

"Yep."

She gave him the phone number and the he bent down and kissed her on the mouth, long and hard, until she whimpered softly into his.

"Thanks," he grinned, and prompted, "Promise not to tell anyone?"

"I promise," Suzy nodded.

"Good." Gunner flashed her his most seductive smile. "I'll call you when I get back from this mission."

That should buy him some time. And who knows, maybe he would take Suzy out when all of this was all over, because she really was a nice woman.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Seneca slipped out of Ansel's room before anyone else was awake, or so she thought.

"Good morning, Seneca." Gwen stared at her from the kitchen while sipping a black cup of coffee.

"I, uh." Seneca's eyes went wide. "I—"

"It’s okay, sweetheart." Gwen sat down at the table. "If I were thirty years younger, I'd be spending the night in that room myself. Ansel is a fine specimen of a man, and that whole hero thing is damn sexy. Wouldn't you agree?" The older woman smiled. "Tell you what, you and Ansel keep it down at night, and I'll pretend that you're still sleeping in my bedroom."

"Would you?" Seneca gave a sigh of relief.

"Yes, I will. You see, older sisters like to pretend their little brothers don't have sex, and Catherine will be no different."

Seneca walked into the kitchen and poured herself a much needed cup of coffee.

"Did you know that she set me up with Ansel before all of this happened? It took me three months to say yes." She flashed Gwen her most mischievous grin. "Of course, if I had seen him…"

Gwen laughed. "Some things happen in their own time."

"You mean like meeting him when his sister gets kidnapped?" Seneca nodded. "I'm pretty sure even God would agree that it was not the best time for a blind date."

"After I woke up at two forty-five, for some strange reason," Gwen teased, and Seneca blushed. "I was wondering about your friend. Ben, was it? Has anybody told him that he can stop tracking Gunner's phone?"

"Oh, shit! Sorry," she said, unsure of Gwen cursing policy. "I'll call him today."

She had to, but she was not looking forward to it. She felt so guilty every time she heard his love-struck voice.

Cat and Dave wandered into the kitchen, and Gwen looked over her shoulder, asking, "Hey, you two hear anything last night?" Seneca went white. "About three o'clock in the morning?"

"No." Cat looked at Dave, who shook his head. "Of course, the master bedroom is all the way at the other end of the house. Why? What did you hear?"

"Oh," Gwen sipped her coffee, winking at Seneca. "A raccoon or something was scratching outside our window, but Seneca slept right through the whole thing."

"I sleep like the dead," Seneca lied. "Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to go take a shower."

She wandered off, both furious and appreciative of Gwen's inquiry. In one fell swoop the woman had covered for Seneca, and confirmed that Cat and Dave had not heard them in bed. And if they didn't hear her screaming after what Ansel did to her… Seneca smiled. They never would.

The shower was the perfect respite. The warm water relaxed her body, giving her mind time to think about Ansel and last night. Seneca didn't know whose turn she had enjoyed more. Hers or his. But she did know, she wanted another turn tonight.

'Take a risk’
.

She had, and boy did it pay off. She didn't know how long it would take for Ansel to get tired of her, but she decided to enjoy him while it lasted. Soon enough, this insanity would all be over and he would resume his military career, traveling off to God knows where.

She wondered if Ansel would want to see her when he came into town or if she would want to see him. It might be too painful. She was not a causal relationship type of girl, but Ansel was the poster boy for one night stands.

To be fair, it would be difficult for him have a relationship in his line of work. She wondered if that hurt him at all. Wondered if he wanted a family, or if he even liked kids.

An image of that huge man holding a tiny newborn flashed in her mind, and it made her smile.

Seneca turned off the shower, still contemplating the idea of Ansel Babineaux, family man. She stepped onto the heated tile floor, and reached for a towel. It was thick, white, and warm as she dried off, then changed into one of the fifty wrinkled shirts Ansel had shoved into her suitcase.

She took the time to actually put on makeup, but she decided to pull her hair into a messy ponytail so it didn't look like she was trying too hard.

The smell of bacon assailed her when she walked back into the kitchen just in time to hear Cat say, "Well, you’re certainly in a good mood," to Ansel.

"I had a good feeling last night." Ansel looked at Seneca. "That Gwen was going to figure this whole DNA thing out today."

"Oh, is that the feeling you had?" Gwen asked, and by the look on Ansel's face, Seneca was sure he had no idea that she had heard them.

"Yep," Ansel grinned, before turning to Dave, asking, "Do we have eggs? Because I'm starving."

"Good job," Gwen whispered as Seneca passed the table, and Seneca could not help but burst out laughing. She was totally embarrassed, but also, she was kind of proud that she had tired him out.

Wondering what was so funny, the others turned to look at her.

"Do we still have some of that Greek yogurt?" Seneca asked, trying to look as innocent as possible.

The rest of breakfast was uneventful, if you don't count the fact that Ansel kept looking at her every time she put a spoonful of yogurt in mouth. One time, she even teased him by turning the spoon over and licking it, nice and slow.

Gwen, Cat and Ansel prepared to leave for the university when she remembered to ask, "Hey, Ansel?"

"Yeah?" He shoved his hands in the back pocket of his jeans, and the simple movement was so God damn sexy that she almost forgot what she wanted to ask him.

"Do you have a burner phone I can use to call Ben? I need to tell him that he can stop tracking Gunner's phone."

"Sure, there's one in my room." He pointed, and she followed him.

The moment they were alone in his bedroom, he had her pressed against the wall, kissing her.

"Please don't eat yogurt in front of me again. I had to wait to get up from the table, so my sister wouldn't see my hard-on."

"I like making you hard," she teased, grabbing his ass.

"Seriously, Seneca." He took a step back, lifting his hands in surrender. "Please, for the love of God, stop before I throw you on the bed."

"Okay. I'm sorry."
Sort of.
"But I really do need to call Ben."

Ansel got out one of the many burner phones he carried around with him, handing her one. She dialed Ben's work phone and Ansel just stood there, staring at her.

"Ben Hollister, please," she requested, before turning to Ansel and covering the phone with her hand. "Leave. I can't concentrate with you standing there."

His eyes held hers and she pointed at the door just as Ben answered the phone.

"Seneca?"

"Hi, Ben," she said with just enough enthusiasm to sound happy to hear his voice, but not enough to encourage him. "How are you?" she asked, shoving Ansel out the door.

"I'm great, but you sure sound like you are in a good mood," he chuckled. "I take it you found your friend?"

"Yes, I did, thanks to you." She sat on the bed with her legs folded beneath her. "That’s why I'm calling, actually. To tell you that you can stop tracking the phone."

"Oh, good. Gary—" Her jackass of a boss, and the reason she quit working there. "—asked for a list of the beta test phone numbers sometime next week and I was getting a little worried I would have to put that number on there."

"I'm sorry." She felt so guilty. "I never meant to put you in an awkward position."

"Don't worry about it." He was so kind. "I just would have made up something about running tests on vector ratios of phones as they traveled cross-country. Gary is so stupid. He wouldn’t have known that it was utter bullshit."

It was true, Gary was as dumb as a post. So, naturally, he made twice as much money as Ben did. Welcome to America.

"Well, anyway thanks so much for—"

"When am I getting that dinner?" She could hear him holding his breath, and it broke her heart. "A nice one, remember?"

She didn't know what to do, and she couldn't hurt his feelings after everything he had done for her.

"How about tonight?"

"Yeah!" His answer was immediate. "I could do that. Where?"

"I'll meet you at…Uh…" It had to be someplace really great. "Franklin's Steakhouse at eight."

"Franklin's?" Ben whistled. "Fancy. Are you sure you want to take me there? It's pretty pricey."

Yes, she was positive. It was the least she could do for the guy who helped save Cat’s life.

"Yes, I'm very sure."

"Okay, then. I can't wait to see you," he said, and the eagerness in his voice reminded her to be gentle with him.

"Hey, a promise is a promise, right?" she said, reminding him that this was not a date, and that she was simply thanking him for what he had done.

That only problem was…she knew Ben would not see it that way.

***

Ansel was still annoyed when they stepped onto the parking garage elevator.

"Short and sweet," he reminded Seneca as he pushed the shiny gold button, engraved with the elegant logo for Franklin's Steakhouse.

Franklin’s was one of those restaurant you had to know existed in order to eat there. Expensive, exclusive, and on the top floor of a high-rise hotel overlooking the Puget Sound.

"Okay, I got it, Ansel," she snarled at him, equally annoyed. "But I owe Ben for helping us find your sister."

“You owe him dinner.”

Not a long, drawn out evening that would end with the guy trying to seduce Seneca into accompanying him to his hotel room that he just happened to have downstairs.

"Ten o'clock," Ansel reminded her. "And then we leave."

"You can leave whenever you want to leave." She glared at him, and he stared at her beautiful face. Her makeup was tastefully done. And he had to admit, that dark eyeshadow brought out the gold in her stunning eyes.

But that wasn't what was bothering him. His eyes drifted down the short black dress Seneca had borrowed from Cat. It was way too tight.

She looked amazing.

Ansel stared at her cleavage. "I thought you were trying to let him down easy." She was wearing a push-up bra.

"I am," she scoffed.

"Looking like that?"

"Ansel, let me make this perfectly clear," she spat. "Your only job here tonight is to make sure I was not followed. And I still think it was too dangerous for you to come at all." 

Okay, it was stupid. But he was not about to let her go out by herself. Anything could happen.

"Tell me about Ben?"

"No," she said, backing him against the elevator wall before stabbing him in the chest with her finger. "Just remember that as soon as I step off this elevator, I don't know you." Seneca turned away from him, but then thought to add, "And don't you dare sit by us."

Ansel started to say something, but the elevator opened on the thirty-fifth floor and she walked off without a backward glance. Forcing himself to wait a few seconds, he took a deep breath before walking into the elegant restaurant.

Huge windows lined every wall, giving diners of stunning views of the Puget Sound lit up with different colored lights twinkling off the water. Tasteful piano music was being played softly in the corner, and he smiled as the host came back to the wooden podium after just having seated Seneca.

"Table for one, please," he said.

The statuesque woman looked at him with a fake smile. "Do you have a reservation, sir?"

"No." Her smile faded.

"If you will just have a seat," the woman said with utmost condescension. "I’ll see what’s available."

Ansel stepped to the side, looking for Seneca in the half empty dining room. He straightened the collar of the white button-down shirt he had borrowed from Dave. It was too tight, but at least it fit. Unlike his brother-in-law's slacks. So Ansel had dug out his nicest pair of jeans and slapped on some cologne, calling it a day.

He was severely underdressed.

"Fortunately, we've just had a cancellation." The host seemed surprised. "Right this way."

They walked through the restaurant, and Ansel was seated far away from the spectacular view that people came for, and nearer the well-stocked bar. But he did not mind, because he was seated facing Seneca and her date.
Ben.

"Thank you," he said when the woman handed him an unnecessarily large menu backed with a mahogany board.

"Your waiter will be with you shortly."

The host left and Ansel immediately assessed Seneca's date, and he had to say that he was shocked. Ben was not the chubby, balding computer programmer he had imagined him to be.

This guy was good looking and in a lot better shape than was comfortable. He was tall, and wearing an expensive three-piece charcoal suit with a snug vest that was meant to show off his lean body.

His designer glasses were a mottled blue, and he was sporting a perfectly sculpted beard that he unconsciously stroked when he looked at Seneca.