Code of Honor

Chapter Twenty-three

The two guards on duty were not the same ones who had been there the last time Cam questioned Jennifer. They obviously knew her, as they gave her ID only a cursory examination.

“Anything unusual reported in the last few days?” Cam asked.

The younger of the two guards, a husky, freckled blond who looked as if he’d be right at home on a Midwestern farm, turned to a computer and brought up a file. He scrolled through it quickly and swiveled back to face her. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” He shrugged. “Actually, nothing much at all has happened.”

“No visitation requests?” Cam didn’t expect there to be any, but sometimes the simplest things could be overlooked. Again, the guard shook his head. “I’d like to see the video feeds for the last thirty hours.”

“Sure thing.” The guard gestured to an adjacent chair, and Cam took off her topcoat and laid it over the back. By the time she sat down, the guard had pulled up a video file.

“The controls will come up with the mouse,” he said and went back to his work.

“Thanks.” Cam positioned the mouse over the lower left-hand corner of the screen and clicked the play icon. The white-walled cell, lit as brightly as an office in daytime and looking about as coldly impersonal, came into view. Jennifer Pattee sat on her bed with her back to the wall and her knees drawn up, her arms folded around them. The timestamp said 0500 the previous day.

The prisoner didn’t look particularly distressed. She was given daily access to a shower and a change of clothes, and she’d obviously been making use of the privilege. Her hair was washed and combed, her pale gray jumpsuit was clean. The faint circles under her eyes suggested she might not have been sleeping entirely well, but the casual observer would not automatically recognize her as a prisoner. Cam fast-forwarded and noted the times at which Jennifer’s meals were provided. Jennifer took each tray, sat on the side of her bed, and methodically consumed all the food, her expression never betraying any reaction to how it tasted. She simply ate as if it were her duty. And perhaps it was. Fueling up to be ready for the fight to come. Whoever had trained her had anticipated this, and while Cam appreciated the necessity of preparing soldiers to withstand hardships, she could not fathom teaching children those lessons. But despite her abhorrence for what Jennifer likely experienced as a child, Cam had no sympathy for the woman. Jennifer was a criminal, and she had been ready to kill any number of individuals to make her statement.

The lights in the cell never went off, and a few hours after the third meal, Jennifer lay down on the bed and pulled the covers up to shield her face. Fast-forwarding, Cam noted she slept for almost six hours before waking. She suspected Jennifer had a very precise inner clock, as did most highly trained field agents. Jennifer then washed up in the tiny sink and stretched out on the tile floor to exercise. For exactly one hour. Cam timed her.

Nothing in any of the tapes indicated Jennifer’s resolve was weakening. Cam hit Stop and stood. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” the guard said, diligently injecting enthusiasm into his voice as if trying to convince her he wasn’t bored by his assignment. On the other hand, maybe he welcomed the low-stress post.

The older guard, a taciturn balding man, guided Cam through the maze of hallways to the familiar interrogation room. A few moments later, he escorted Jennifer, once again shackled at the wrists, into the room. Despite the fact that Jennifer was no real physical threat, Cam said nothing while the guard secured Jennifer’s restraints to the table. She wanted to reinforce Jennifer’s complete helplessness, to remind Jennifer she was a captive and completely at the will of her captors. Namely, Cam.

“I thought we’d finish our conversation about Idaho,” Cam said.

Jennifer regarded her steadily. What hadn’t shown in the video was the gleam of absolute fervor in her eyes. She might be a captive, but her devotion to whatever cause sustained her was unflagging. “I wasn’t aware we were having a conversation.”

Cam smiled. “It was a bit one-sided. I was hoping today you might be more communicative.”

“I have nothing to say to you except to remind you that you can’t keep me here without representation. It’s against—”

“About that,” Cam said softly, leaning forward, encroaching on the limited personal space the length of Jennifer’s chains afforded her. “You are a terrorist. You have no rights. You forfeited those rights when you decided to attack the government that protects them.”

For the briefest instant, shock dulled Jennifer’s eyes. Fear doused the flames of her fanaticism. Just as quickly, her expression became completely blank, as if she had shuttered every emotion. She had been trained not to respond to threats, physical or emotional, but even the most rigorous training could not obliterate the involuntary responses buried deep in the animal brain. When threatened with extermination, every animal would run or fight. Cam wanted to force Jennifer into doing one or the other.

“On the other hand,” Cam said casually, as if she were having a conversation with a trusted friend, “I’m in the position to make your life much more comfortable. I’m sure there are people who are worried about you. People you’d like to contact. Friends.” Cam paused. “Family.”

Again, Jennifer attempted to control her responses, and she was very, very good. But her pupils widened and constricted just enough to signal she’d experienced a surge of adrenaline at the suggestion of making contact with those close to her. Jennifer undoubtedly functioned in some sort of subunit, a terrorist cell isolated from the larger group—and she was waiting for them to find her.

“Do you really expect them to come for you?” Cam laughed and waved a hand around the room. “In a place like this? And just how do you expect that to happen?”

“Do you honestly expect me to tell you?” Jennifer made no attempt to hide her disdain.

“Not in so many words.” Cam checked her watch. “I have a plane to catch to Boise.” She looked up, caught Jennifer’s stare. This time Jennifer failed to hide her hatred. “I’ll tell Angela Jones you send your best.”

“I don’t know Angela Jones,” Jennifer said flatly.

“No? You probably know her by another name. One of your school friends, I’d wager. And I’m sure there are others who know your name and hers. How many homeschooled children do you think went on to higher education from Idaho? The information is there, Jennifer. We’ll find it.” Cam stood. “And when we do, we’ll find your leader.”

“I hope you do,” Jennifer said vehemently. “Because he’ll kill you.”

Cam was much better at controlling her emotions than Jennifer, and her satisfaction didn’t show. But she had her confirmation. Jennifer and Angela were connected, and she was headed in the right direction.

She leaned forward, her palms flat on the table, her body looming over Jennifer’s. “I sincerely hope he tries.”

*

The trip to the motel for Sky’s scant belongings didn’t take very long. On the way back, they stopped at the bar to pick up Loren’s bike. When they returned to Loren’s shop, Loren disappeared into the garage, and Sky put away her things on an empty shelf in the cubbies. The sound of an engine revving in the garage told her Loren was tuning up the bike for the seven-hundred-mile trip to Reno. At least they were heading south where it might be a little warmer.

The New Year’s run was legendary. Bikers gathered to party and welcome in the New Year, and to have an excuse to consume excessive amounts of alcohol, gamble, and generally indulge in various forms of debauchery. In addition, the national club leaders used the occasion to remind the chapter presidents of their authority. Like the lords of old calling their earls to the castle for a great feast and vows of fealty, the national president and his inner circle reminded those who were not performing well that they could be replaced. No one missed the run if they wanted to maintain their status in the organization.

Sky didn’t need to pack much. Follow trucks, filled with gear and spare parts, were driven by prospects who would accompany the members on their bikes. After packing a change of clothes and some personal items in a backpack, she left the pack on the bed and wandered into the shop. Loren crouched by the bike, tinkering with the engine. In a dark T-shirt, jeans, and biker boots, she looked enticingly tough and tremendously sexy.

Loren glanced in Sky’s direction. “Hey.”

Sky leaned against the nearby counter. “Hi. How’s it going?”

Loren stood, set the tool aside, and dusted off her hands. “Just killing time. Everything looks good. What about you?”

Sky debated not telling her. At any other time, with any other operative, she wouldn’t have given it a thought. But keeping Loren in the dark was getting harder and harder to do. “We had a potential problem, but it should be handled.”

Loren frowned. “What?”

“My original plan was to be here a few days, make contact with you, and provide backup from behind the scenes. Now that’s changed, and I don’t want to chance running into Dougie in Reno.”

“Fuck. There’s no reason to think we will—there’ll be a few hundred members there, but if Ramsey drags us into a meeting with Jerome, it’s possible we could cross paths.” Loren paced. “It’s dangerous for you to be there.”

“I know that.” Sky anticipated Loren’s next statement. “And I know what you’re going to say, and I’m not staying behind.” She held up a hand when Loren took a step forward, her expression darkening. “But it’s handled. I called my ATF counterpart from the car on the way back here.”

“To do what?”

“Dougie has an outstanding warrant on a concealed weapons charge in Oregon. No big surprise there. We’ll pick him up on a routine traffic stop and hold him awhile.”

“And you don’t think it’s going to look suspicious if he suddenly gets pulled in during the run?”

Sky laughed. “Why should it? No one’s going to connect him to me, who Jerome has probably already forgotten about, especially when I’m five hundred miles away. We’re just being cautious.”

Loren slid her hands into her back pockets, and with her legs spread wide and her deepening scowl looked every inch the renegade she was. “You take too many chances. I don’t like it.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sky said softly, holding on to the counter on either side of her with both hands. She feared to move when every part of her ached to wrap her fingers around the corded muscles of her biceps, to sweep her palms over the hard muscles of her chest, press against the hot flame of her body. She swallowed against the desire filling her throat. “You just worry about your own cover, McElroy.”

Loren took two steps closer, and before Sky could jerk away Loren’s hand was in her hair, tethering her in place.

“Or what?” Loren said softly.

Sky slid her arms around Loren’s neck and kissed her. “Or I’ll be pissed.”

“Then it’ll make two of us.”

Loren braced her arms on the counter behind Sky and leaned into her, effectively caging her. She kissed her mouth, her throat, and worked her way down. “You keep making me crazy, and there’s going to be a lot more than a little trouble.”

Sky arched against her, knowing she was losing the battle and not caring. She slid her calf around the back of Loren’s thigh and locked her tight. “I can handle trouble.”

Loren found the bottom of Sky’s tight top and pulled it from her jeans. She was about to slide her hand underneath when Ramsey said from behind them, “Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got places to be.”

Loren raised her head but didn’t ease away from Sky’s body, glancing over her shoulder at the club president. “Your timing could’ve been better, Prez.”

Ramsey, looking formidable in full leathers, shrugged, his gaze sliding down Sky’s body. “Oh, I don’t know. I’d say my timing was pretty good. A minute later would’ve been even better. Might even been able to lend you a hand.”

When Loren stiffened, Sky dug her fingers into Loren’s back and whispered, “Let it go, Loren.”

Ramsey looked amused, as if enjoying Loren’s temper.

Sky gave Loren a little push and laughed in Ramsey’s direction. “Thanks for the offer, but she’s got excellent hands already.”

His grin widened. “You let me know if that changes.”

“I’ll do that.” Sky nipped at Loren’s lower lip and ran her fingertips down Loren’s tight abs. “Come on, baby. We’ve got us a party to get to.”