ANOMALY.MIL (The Conspiracy Series Book One): A Romantic Suspence Novel (17 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The front door opened and Seneca panicked, slipping her cell phone into her back pocket.

"It's only two o'clock," she smiled as she stood up, trying desperately not to fidget. "We didn't think you would be home so soon."

"Yeah, neither did we." Ansel peeled off his jacket then hung it by the front door. "But Gwen found something. She figured out why people with the anomaly are being taken by the military."

"Are you serious?" She couldn't believe it. Gwen nodded, and Ansel walked right by without even looking at her. "That's…That's great!" Seneca swallowed the lump in her throat, refusing to let him see her pain. "Maybe now we can figure out how to stop them from coming after you…and Cat." She remembered what had started all of this.

Ansel opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a beer. "Hope so," was all he said, taking a long swig as he walked down the hall to the living room in the back.

Seneca's heart was racing. His brows furrowed and Ansel looked at her for the first time since arriving at the house, asking the question she was afraid to answer.

"Are Dave and Cat taking a nap?"

"No." Seneca instinctively walked closer to Gwen to protect her from Ansel’s impending anger. He waited. She licked her bottom lip. "Cat has been so sick that they…Uh…They decided to go to Cat's obstetrician appointmen—"

Ansel slammed his beer on the counter and pulled out his gun. He looked her in the eye, and she didn't even recognize him when he said, "Run." 

"What?" She followed him to his bedroom.

"They’re coming. They know Cat’s schedule and would have had someone waiting at the doctor’s office. By now, she will have told them about this house."

Ansel was putting several gun clips in his pockets before he jumped up and grabbed her by the arm, shoving her hard out his bedroom door.

"Take Gwen and you run. Don't look back. No matter what you hear in the hous—" 

A branch broke outside his window and fear clogged Seneca’s throat. She looked at Ansel, but he had turned into a different person. He trained his gun on the front door, tossing his head toward the back.

She grabbed Gwen by the wrist, and they ran as quietly as they could to the back living room. They were halfway across the room when she saw a dark shadow streaking across the drawn curtains of the large window as it moved toward the back door. Seneca yanked Gwen to a stop and they hid behind a cabinet angled in the corner of the dim room.

Seneca could hear her own breath as she listened to the silence, and then the world exploded. The front door shattered, and she flinched at the sound of the first gunshots.

The back door split in two and they crouched lower. She looked through the narrow slit between the wall and the cabinet, and saw a man running toward the front of the house. Toward Ansel.

They're going to kill him.
She started to cry and Gwen squeezed her hand, pulling her out from behind the cabinet and through the broken back door.

They took the narrow trail down to the water. Ferns and underbrush pulled at their pants before they were able to turn to their right and follow the rocky shoreline.

Gwen pointed at a cluster of trees just up the hill. They scrabbled toward it, soaked from the knee down. Seneca was helping the older woman settle against a large tree trunk when they saw two men crash through the large windows at the back of the house.

Seneca peered through the underbrush, terrified when she realized that one of those men was Ansel. She looked around for some way to help him. A rock, a stick.

Gwen put her hand on Seneca's wrist and shook her head, silently telling her what she already knew. There was nothing she could do to help him. Ansel was going to be killed and she was going to watch.

The man who breached the back door kicked Ansel in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him and sending him tumbling down the steep hill. He landed with a splash in the shallow waters close to shore and Ansel managed to push himself upright just as the other man reached him.

The guy punched Ansel in the ribs, which further disrupted his labored breathing. And then with a cruel grin, he punched the other side.

"Hurts, doesn't it," the man sneered.

Ansel couldn't respond. He was bent in half, stumbling deeper into the cold water of the Pacific. The other man followed, pulling a zip tie from one of the many pockets on his military style pants.

He wrenched Ansel's arms behind his back, hissing in his ear, "Too bad the general wants you aliv—"

In a flash, Ansel spun around in some type of wrestling move, ending up on the man's back. Seneca watched in horror as he used all of his considerable weight to push the man underwater.

The man's head popped up and he gasped for air, but Ansel grabbed the back of his hair and shoved him back under. The man thrashed as he struggled to breathe, but Ansel was too strong. Seneca covered her ears until the splashing finally stopped, and Ansel took his knee off of the man's back, standing up.

She was shaking uncontrollably, but Seneca froze when a man and woman walked out the back door of the house. Their guns were drawn, and the woman smiled at Ansel.
Smiled,
after he had just killed one of her own men.

"I've been waiting so long to meet you, Sergeant Babineaux."

"I can't say the same," Ansel smirked, walking out of the water as casually as if he had just had a swim.

"On your knees," the woman ordered and Seneca closed her eyes, praying that he would comply. He did.
Thank God.
The man advanced toward Ansel, but the woman had her gun aimed at his chest.

"You can't shoot me," Ansel chuckled as his hands were being bound. "Your man over here," he looked at the body floating in the water, "said the general wants me alive."

The woman walked up to Ansel and stood no more than five feet away, grinning.

"That's true. The general did say I couldn't kill you." And then she shot him in the left arm. Ansel fell to his knees with a guttural groan. "That's for 'my man over there,’" she taunted him, then looked at the other man. "Fish him out of the water."

Seneca realized that they were going to take Ansel with them. She glanced at Gwen and put her fingers to her lips, but was gone before the older woman could object.

It made sense that they would think Ansel was alone. They didn't know about Gwen, or her. At least, that's what she was telling herself as she made her way to their vehicle.

When she saw the car, Seneca was surprised. The luxury Sedan was a dime a dozen in this part of the world and would never be looked at twice. Never be found.

She could feel her pulse in her throat as she scrambled toward the trunk of the car. She frantically felt under the bumper for a place to store her cell phone.

"Damn it." 

The bumper was flush to the chassis of the car, leaving her no place to hide the phone.
Think
. A man grunted just down the hill, and Seneca knew she only had a few seconds before he arrived.

And then she had an idea. She figured they would not have bothered to pull out their keys and lock the car before storming the house.

Sending up a silent prayer that the car alarm was not armed, she pressed the latch of the trunk and it popped open. She caught it, holding it down with her left hand as she slipped her cell phone into a side pocket of the trunk, before pulling it closed until she heard a soft click.

Crouching, Seneca ran to the opposite side of the house. She was clinging to the wall to peer around the corner just as the second man came into view with the dead man slung across his shoulder.

He walked to the trunk and Seneca whispered, "No."

She hadn't thought of that. Of course they would put the dead man in the trunk. Seneca closed her eyes, trying to remember if her phone was still set to silent. She prayed that it was as the man popped the trunk, dumping his colleague's body in with a thud before closed it.

She sighed with relief and then
Ansel came into view with the woman holding a gun to his back.

"I apologize for the inconvenience,” the woman said. “But I'm afraid you’ll have to sit in the back of car with me. It seems our SUV is being used at the moment to transport your sister to our facility."

It was an unnecessary cruelty that made Seneca want to punch her in the face.

"That's all right," Ansel smiled, as the other man put metal cuffs on his ankles that connected to the ones now on his wrists. "It'll give us time to get to know one another before I kill you."

Seneca shuddered. It was one thing to know Ansel
could
kill. But to see him do it was…chilling.

"Oh, you won't kill me." The woman ran her hand down his cheek, adding, "We're cousins." And then she laughed, opening the car door and shoving Ansel inside.

The car pulled out of the driveway and Seneca thought about calling the police, but what could she say. 'A psychotic army lady just kidnapped my friend. And if the woman tells you she is taking a fugitive into custody, just ignore her and the three-star general who will back her up'.

Yeah, that will fly.

"Seneca?" Gwen called out, frantic. "Seneca, where are you? Are you okay, sweetie?"

"I'm here."

She met Gwen in the driveway, and they took a moment to absorb what had just happened. The front door lay in pieces on the porch, and she helped steady Gwen as they stepped over them to go inside the house. The older woman sat on the coach and sighed as if she had just run a marathon.

"What are we going to do?" Gwen said, more to herself than to Seneca.

"I put my phone in the trunk of their car.”

Gwen raised a gray brow and smiled with approval. "Very dangerous, my dear. But smart."

"Can you stay with that doctor? What's his name?"

"Professor Park," Gwen nodded. "I think so."

Seneca ran to her bedroom and pack a bag. "Here." She handed Gwen a burner phone. "I'll call if I can, and could you arrange to have these doors fixed?"

"Sure, but where are you going?"

"To talk to Ben," she said, and Gwen understood. "But first, I need to talk to someone else."

"Who?"

Seneca grabbed her phone, and dialed. "Gunner Holstad."

CHAPTER THIRTY

Gunner stared at his cards, distracted by the constant buzz of Drew's annoying voice.

"See, when you make love to a woman," Drew began a new, yet favorite, topic, "you got to remember all five of the senses."

Win looked at Gunner. "Shoot me."

"First, you got to remember sight," the Tennessee musings continued. "You gotta take your time in peelin' off those clothes," he said, his hands showing them how. "Appreciating every little revelation of her body. Her enjoyin' seeing you, and you enjoyin' seeing that pretty black bra and those matching lace panties she put on just for you."

Gunner threw a poker chip in the pot and after a frustratingly long wait, he turned to Drew, asking, “Are you in or out?"

"Hell, yeah, I'm in." Drew anted up. "Second, you got the sense of smell. You give her a little nuzzle. A little kiss right behind the ear, until she's shivering with goosebumps. Takin' it nice and slow, you understand, as you breathe in her flowery perfume that you just know she put in strategic locations all over her beautiful body."

"I raise." Gunner put in a hundred dollars’ worth of chips.

Win raised his dark brows. "Damn, Captain." 

"I call." Drew tossed his chips in the center of the table. "Third."

"I fold," Win said to Gunner, completely ignoring the sensual lecture taking place to his right.

"
Third
,” Drew said, louder. “You got one of my favorite senses. Taste." Drew nodded, wiggling his eyebrows. "Damn, I love that first taste of a woman. Her softness, her opening her legs for you." He smiled, sighing.

"I raise another fifty," Gunner bet, sure that Drew was trying to distract him from the game, and he wasn't about to let that happen.

"And finally, you have touch." Drew lifted his poker chips above the table, and sprinkled them down like rain. "Touching her all over her body, then turning her over and doin' it all again. Yep, the senses. That's how you make love to a woman."

Win crossed his arms over his chest. "There are five senses, dumbass."

"Oh, sound?" Drew looked over at Win and then at Gunner, saying, "You mean the sound of her screamin' my name? Up top." Drew raised his hand for a high five, but they both left him hanging.

Win just stared at him. “You do remember that you’re a virgin?”

Gunner laughed, laying down a full house.

"Shit!" Drew threw his cards on the table showing two pair, aces over kings. “Yeah, I ‘member my vow.” He stood up, grinning from ear to ear. “Which is why I love oral sex so much.”

“That…” Win was shaking his head. “Makes no sense.”

“Sure it does. Because the only woman that will have the pleasure of
this—“
Drew grabbed his crotch. “Is my future wife. Hey, I'm gettin' a beer. Anyone else want one?"

"Well, now that your hands on your dick…" Win tossed his empty bottle halfway across the room, hitting the trash can perfectly. “Sure.”

"Yeah, I'll have another one, too." Gunner remembered to add, "And bring the bottle opener, so Win doesn't fuck up the side of my table any more than he already has."

Win shrugged in what Gunner assumed was some type of an apology before gathering up the cards. He banged them on the table and cut the deck, followed by the rapid fluttering in a blur of red cards as he shuffled.

"So, what are we doing here, sir?" Drew asked, handing them their beers before plopping in a chair. "'Cause the general is gonna want a progress report on Ansel, and soon."

Gunner filled his lungs and then blew the air out slowly. He looked at his men and told them the truth. "Honestly, I don't know what to do. I was hoping to hear from Ansel about Dr. Huber's research. At least then, we would know why they want him."

"Did you call him?" Win asked.

"I tried." Gunner rubbed the back of his neck. "He's not answering the burner phone. And Drew's right, the general is going to want a progress report about those vehicles leaving the gas station."

"Just tell him you didn't find anything," Drew suggested.

That was all Gunner could do. Stall the general, and play poker until Ansel gave him something else to work on. It was frustrating, and one wrong move would end his military career.

"If I don't hear anything from Ansel soon, we'll—" His cell phone rang. Not his burner, his personal cell phone. "Hello."

"Gunner?" It was Seneca.
Shit!

"Hey, baby," he said, smooth as silk. "I haven't heard from you since Vegas. But let me call you back, because I'm right in the middle of something."

And then he hung up.

"Fuck." Gunner threw his phone against the wall, shattering it to pieces. Win and Drew waited and he ignored them, calling Ansel's burner phone with the one Ansel gave him. It rang, and rang, and rang. And just when he was about to hang up, Seneca answered.

"Hello?"

"It’s me." Gunner was furious at their carelessness for calling him on his personal number. "Let me talk to Ansel."

"Gunner." She sounded upset. "They took him. Cat too."

"Who?" He did not believe it. Ansel was not an easy man to 'take'.

"I don't know. A Hispanic woman and two men." She paused. "It's our fault. Cat insisted on going to her obstetrician appointment, because she was so worried about the baby."

"Where was Ansel?"

"At the university," she said. "The second Ansel found out where Cat had gone, he knew they would come for him. He made Gwen and me leave, and he… He fought all three of them to give us time to escape." She took several steadying breathes. "Ansel killed one of them."

That did not surprise him, but if she had seen it…

"How long ago did this happen?" Gunner was already thinking about how to intercept that vehicle.

"A few minutes ago." She sounded pretty calm.
Good.
"Ansel must have lost his phone when they fought, because I found it under the couch when you called."

"Let's keep using the burners," he said with his command voice, to calm her more than anything. "And don't call me on my cell phone again."

"'I'm sorry, I didn't know what else to do."

"It’s okay," he lied. "But we'll be on the road, trying to figure out where they might have taken—"

"You don't have to."

He was confused. "Why?"

"I put my cell phone in the trunk of the car they put Ansel in."

Shock pulled a laugh out of him.
Damn
. "That took some balls."

"I'm going to have a friend track my cell phone."

"Like he tracked me?" Gunner asked, starting to respect this girl.

"Yes," she said, contrite. "And hopefully it’ll work equally as well."

That made him smile. "Hopefully so." And then Gunner remembered, "I need your friend to tag another phone number for me, and he's not gonna want to do it." He gave her a moment to absorb that before adding, "Make him."

"Okay," she said, but Gunner could hear the hesitation in her voice.

So he pulled her back to the task at hand. "Call me back when you have Ansel's location."

"I will," she agreed. "And Gunner?" He waited, not sure what to expect. "Please, be careful. And please,” she implored. “Bring them back alive."

The tone of her voice piqued his interest. "He's as good as home."

"Thank you." Seneca let out the breath she had been holding, and Gunner wondered if he would ever have a woman worry about him the same way. "I'll call you as soon as possible."

He slipped the burner in his pocket and turned to his men, ordering, "Pack up." A slow smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "We're going to rescue Ansel."

And Gunner would never let the bastard forget it when they did.

***

The phone in his office rang and he answered it, because he was expecting the call.

"General Hawkins," he said, his voice raspy with fatigue.

"We have them both," his sergeant announced with a hint of pride. "The woman was easy. Got her in the parking garage after her doctor's appointment. I can't believe she was stupid enough to go," Inez scoffed. "Knocked the husband out first and then took her."

"Good," he grunted, pleased. "And Ansel Babineaux?"

"We had some…" His sergeant paused, which was never a good sign. "Difficulty there." He waited for her to explain. "Jason’s dead."

The general set down his pen on his organized desk. "That’s unfortunate."

"And Sergeant Babineaux…" She took a deep breath, before saying, "He's been shot."

Now, that irritated him. What good would the man be, if he were dead?

"Sergeant." He was cold. "If Ansel Babineaux dies from that gunshot wound, I will kill your other man. The man you have been sleeping with for the last ten months." His sergeant sucked in a breath, unaware that he knew. "Lieutenant Camdon, was it?" Wisely, she did not speak while the general continued her lesson. "This is why the military does not allow relationships, because you can be manipulated into doing whatever the enemy wants."

"Yes, General." Her contrition softened his heart toward his protégé.

"You're special, Sergeant Munoz, just like Sergeant Babineaux, and it would be a tragedy to lose you. However, Lieutenant Camdon…" He let that hang in the air. "Is replaceable."

"Understood, sir," she said, and he knew that she did. "However, we did triage the sergeant's wound in the car. There’s no damage to the arm. A straight through and through." Inez was an excellent shot, and the general suspected it was taken as retribution for the dead one. What was his name? Oh, well, the man was dead, so what did it matter?

"Let me know as soon as they arrive," the general ordered. "Also, call the clinic and have them waiting on standby. I want both of them seen by a doctor immediately upon arrival."

"Yes, sir," Inez said, adding, "Catherine Miller is with another team two hours ahead of us."

"Good. If Ansel Babineaux knows we have his sister, he will be more likely to behave."

"Anything else, sir?"

"Yes." Now that he thought about it. "I want the guards doubled on the sergeant. And put him in a holding cell, not in the barracks with the others."

"Yes, sir."

"That's all, Sergeant." The general hung up on her, so she would know the extent of his irritation.

He was staring at the wall, thinking about how best to deal with Sergeant Babineaux when the phone rang again. "General Hawkins," he said into the receiver.

"General Hawkins, this is communications."

"Yes."

"Sir, you wanted to be notified if Captain Holstad's personal cell phone was in use."

"Get to the point, son." He didn't have time for this.

"Yes, sir." The kid sounded terrified and began talking faster. "Captain Holstad's phone was used eight minutes ago. He spoke with a woman for approximately eleven seconds."

"And who was this woman?"

"Unknown, sir. But we were able to determine her location."

Fuck, it was like pulling teeth
. "And where was she located?"

"Seattle. It pinged off a tower in the—"

The general slammed the phone down, livid.

He was so angry, but even angrier with himself. The fabled Captain Gunner Holstad, decorated war hero, had looked him in the eye and lied. And he hadn't seen it. Had not had a single fucking clue that when he stared into those icy blue eyes, he was looking into the eyes of an American traitor.