Topping the Alpha: Trident Security Series (5 page)

An hour later, Jake watched one of the two new Trident operatives, Tristan McCabe, run his way through the military-style obstacle course the team had set up north of the main compound. It was surrounded by a quarter-mile running track and sat parallel to the new heliport. The chopper would arrive after the new pilot reported to work, and then traveled to California to fly it back. Ian and Devon were currently in negotiations for the property south of their current acreage and had plans for a multi-story hollowed out building which would be used for mission practice runs as well as routine training. The walls could be moved around in order to simulate different setups. An outdoor shooting gallery with pop-up bad guys was also in the future plans. It would work with computerized weapons and targets, so there was no need for live ammo which always ran the risk of accidental injuries—insurance companies tended to frown on that.

Patiently waiting at the starting line of the course was Nick. After they’d left his office earlier, Jake had introduced him to the two new operatives, and Nick had stood by when Ian joined them, laying out the agenda for the day. The first matter Jake took care of was showing Foster and McCabe the bunk rooms and living quarters above the offices. The second floor housed six bedrooms, four with a set of bunk beds, a desk, and a dresser, as well as an attached bathroom. The other two bedrooms had the exact same setup, but had a queen-size bed instead of the bunks. A kitchen and large recreational area, complete with couches, recliners, sixty-inch HDTV, pool table, and dart board, made the entire floor a comfortable place for the new team members to stay until they found their own housing.

Next Jake gave them a tour of the training building. It sat between the Trident offices and the residential one, and contained a gym, indoor shooting range, training room, and a panic room, in case of an emergency. Upstairs was currently spare space and storage. He informed the two men that Marco would set them up with the standard-issued equipment when he and the others returned from their current mission.

For now, Jake was running the men through their paces, trying to assess their strengths and weaknesses. Nick had volunteered to run the course with them to keep up his own physical fitness routine. He’d managed to convince the women to go shopping without him today, and promised to go to the furniture store with them tomorrow. Jake had a feeling he was trying to find another way out of the excursion.

While McCabe grabbed a thick rope and swung his body over a water trap, Cain Foster stood next to Jake, trying to catch his breath. He’d just completed the course in seven minutes and forty seconds, which was pretty good for his first run-through. The course was a slightly modified version of the Navy SEALs' famous O-course in BUD/s training, which Jake had spent countless hours on during his time in the military.

“What’s the course record?” Foster asked between gulps of air.

Jake watched McCabe clear the rope webbing before answering. “Devil Dog’s got it. Five minutes, twenty-two seconds.”

“Shit. I wasn’t even close.”

Letting out a quick snort, Jake shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It took Dev two weeks to get that time and he helped design the course. Besides, it’s not like you had to do many O-courses like this in the Secret Service. You’ll get there…then you have to do it with a thirty-pound pack.” He hit the button on his stopwatch as McCabe crossed the finish line. “Not bad for an Army grunt. You beat Foster by sixteen seconds. Seven-twenty-four.”

The former Delta Force operator cursed as his lungs heaved for oxygen. “Fuck, that sucks.”

Jake just grinned. It seemed like that was everyone’s reaction to the first time they ran it, but he wasn’t worried. According to Foster, he hadn’t run an intense obstacle course in years, and McCabe was still gaining the strength back in his left bicep after taking a bullet four months ago. Poor guy got nailed two weeks before his last tour in the Army’s Special Ops was complete.

“What time do I have to beat?”

His gaze found Nick standing at the starting line and he willed himself not to have a reaction. The kid was in a pair of grey sweatpants and military green tank, and was in peak physical condition. The day’s temperature was in the low eighties, which was normal for the beginning of November, but it was wise to wear sweatpants on the course unless you wanted splinters or rope burns on your thighs. “If you want to impress me, you gotta beat Dev. Five and twenty-two.”

“Shit, that’s nothing. Big brother is going down.” He shrugged his shoulders and swiveled his head, making sure his neck muscles were as loose as the rest of him. Lining up at the start, he grinned at Jake.

Cocky little shit.
“Ready? Three. Two. One. Go!”

Nick took off like the devil was on his heels. He vaulted the first short wall then raced across a low balance beam without a moment’s hesitation. Jake’s gaze bounced between his stopwatch and the kid, his thoughts urging him on. Four minutes into the run, Ian walked up and stood next to his teammate. The boss’s eyes were on his younger brother while Jake handed him a clipboard with the other men’s times on it. Ian didn’t even glance at it. “How’s he doing?”

“Faster than a fucking jackrabbit. If he doesn’t miss anything, he’s going to beat Devil Dog’s time by a good fifteen to twenty seconds.”

Ian snorted in feigned disgust. “Great. Just what he needs…fucking bragging rights.”

The four men watched as Nick completed the last few obstacles and lunged across the finish line. He pulled up short, panting hard, and raised an eyebrow for his time.

“Four-fifty-nine.”
Damn it
, Jake thought.
Was that pride in his voice?

“Hoo-yah!” The smug bastard did a dance which belonged in an NFL end-zone while the other men groaned. Yeah, it was obvious he was going to crow about that record for a long time.

Before he could say something snarky, Jake’s phone rang and he grabbed it from its hip holster.
Unknown Caller
. He swiped the screen to connect and brought it to his ear. “Donovan.” He was greeted by silence, but when he checked, the call was still connected. “Hello? Anyone there?”

There was crackling across the line and then a whispered voice. “J-Jake?”

He froze and the hair on his neck tingled. “Alyssa? Alyssa, baby, is that you? What’s wrong?” All eyes were suddenly on him at the elevated concern in his voice. The men knew something bad was about to go down.

There was a gut-wrenching sob. “J-Jake, t-they killed her. T-they killed my m-mom.”

“Shi…where are you, Alyssa?” He turned and began to jog toward the office building with the others fast on his heels. “Alyssa? Answer me. Where are you?”

“I…I’m hiding in the b-bathroom at the park. I’m s-scared, Jake. You…you have to help me. Please, help me!”

She was close to being hysterical and Jake still needed information from her. “I’m going to help you, but first, sweetie, you need to tell me exactly where you are. Remember? They wouldn’t tell me where you and your mom went. Give me the town and state you’re in.”

“Canon City, Colorado. P-please, come get me! Please!”

“I’m coming, sweetheart. Stay on the line with me.” Barging into the office, they startled Colleen, but Jake continued past her desk and into the conference room, followed by the others. He grabbed a laptop and slid it across the table to Ian, who was in the process of taking a seat. “Canon City, Colorado. I need a contact there fast. Critical extraction.”

Ian brought the computer out of sleep mode and started typing as Jake returned his attention to the scared young girl on the phone, trying to get more information from her. The other three men stood silently around the large conference table waiting for further details as their secretary appeared in the doorway. Without taking his eyes off the computer screen, Ian ordered, “Colleen, call Chase Dixon. Tell him we need to borrow one of his planes, ASAP. Ours is still in South America. We need to go to…here it is…we’re heading to Colorado Springs or as close to Canon City, Colorado as we can get. It’ll be a round-trip or to another location. Not sure yet. Take-off within the hour.”

“Got it.” She disappeared again to make the call to Blackhawk Security.

Ian snatched a landline phone from the table and started dialing, then glanced at Jake. “You’re in luck. Archer lives in Colorado Springs, not far from her. Where exactly is she? I’ll see if he can intercept and lock her down until you get there.”

Jake handed over a piece of paper where he’d written the cell number she’d given him, then interrupted her renewed pleading. “Alyssa, I swear, I’m coming to get you, but I’m sending someone closer to look after you until I get there. His name is Pete Archer and he’s a good friend of mine from the Navy. You can trust him. He’s going to keep you safe, but I have to know exactly where you are. Do you know the name of the park you’re in?”

“Y-yeah. It’s the C-Centennial Park, but I forget what street it’s on. It-it’s about six blocks from our house.”

“Centennial Park, okay, good. You’re doing great, sweetheart. Now, are you well-hidden? Did they see you? Were you followed?” He needed to get as much from her as he could, in case they lost the connection.

“N-no, no one followed me and I-I don’t think…I don’t think they saw me.”

Jake took the note Ian handed back to him with his own scrawl added on. He read it, then raised an eyebrow at his boss. When he mouthed ‘forty-five minutes’, Ian grimaced and nodded. If that was the best they could do, he’d have to take it. “Alyssa, listen to me, sweetheart. Stay where you are. I have to hang up now…”

“No! Don’t hang up, Jake! Please don’t hang up. I…”

“Sweetheart, I have to. I have to get to the airport and fly out to get you, but I’m going to have my friend call you right back. Remember? His name is Pete Archer. He’s going to call you as soon as I hang up and he’s about forty-five minutes away from you. I’m going to text you his picture, so you can recognize him. He’s going to stay on the line with you until he finds you. Okay? And he’ll keep you safe until I get there in a few hours.”

“O-okay, but hurry.”

Jake’s heart was breaking for the teenager. She’d been through so much already. “I will, Alyssa, I promise. Now, hang up so Pete can call you.”

“Okay, hurry.”

The call disconnected and his worried eyes met Ian’s. “Can you send her a photo of Archer? And put a trace on her phone in case we lose her?”

His boss nodded and began typing again. “Give me a sit-rep while I’m doing this. I vaguely remember her case. Runaway, about a year ago, right?”

Running a hand through his hair, Jake paced the length of the room while the others watched in silence. “Yeah. Alyssa Wagner. Her father’s a local businessman with political ties to the mayor and governor. He reported her as a sixteen-year-old runaway, claiming she took off after being grounded for missing her curfew a few times. Turns out he was sexually abusing her for years.” Muttered curses filled the room. If there were two things the men of Trident hated more than anything, it was rapists and child abusers—Oliver Wagner was both, which made him the scum of the earth. “A few days into the investigation, when I managed to get a chance to talk to the mother alone, she broke down and told me the truth. Carrie was terrified of the asshole. The whole meek, submissive, ‘he’s going to kill me’ thing was going on, so I offered to help her and her daughter get new identities.”

Ian knew what he meant by that, but the others weren’t aware of Trident’s resources yet, so Jake filled them in. “There’s a group called ‘Friends of Patty’. A few women started it years ago after a friend of theirs was killed by an abusive husband. They now have contacts all over the U.S. and it’s run like the old Underground Railroad. Female victims of abuse are given the means to escape and start new lives. And I tell you, this group would give the U.S. Marshals a run for their money. They’re that fucking good.

“Anyway, Alyssa’s mother knew where her daughter was hiding. She was with an old college friend Carrie hadn’t seen in years, but kept in contact with, without the husband knowing. Wagner hated the woman and forbade Carrie to stay in contact, but she did anyway. The friend lived in Georgia. I went up there, got Alyssa, and set them up with Friends of Patty. Same rules as the Marshals—name changes, no contact with anyone from their previous life, etcetera. I gave them my cell number for emergencies only and this was the first I’ve heard from either of them.” He stopped pacing and clasped his hands behind his head in frustration.

“Alyssa says she went to work waitressing at six this morning and forgot something—a baby’s gift—she wanted to give one of the other waitresses. About an hour into her shift, she got a break to run a few blocks home and saw a strange car parked across the street. For some reason it set off her inner alarm and she snuck around to a window at the side of the house. Her mother was dead on the floor, shot in the face, and two guys were tearing the place apart. She’s hiding in a nearby park now.”

Colleen stuck her head in the doorway. “Mr. Dixon said the plane is no problem. It’ll be ready when you get there. And you owe him—again.”

Waving his acknowledgement at the efficient secretary, Ian stared at Jake. “All right, what’s the plan after you recover her?”

He planted his hands on his hips. “The safe-house for now. Can you send Pete a text and tell him to put an anonymous call into 911 after he gets Alyssa? Have the police go to her house, so they can get the ball rolling on an investigation.” Ian nodded. “Then we need to figure out if this is a random burglary gone wrong or did her father’s people find her. And if they did, then how? Once we know what we’re dealing with, we’ll go from there.”