Dangerous Pursuit (OSI Dark Ops #3)

CHAPTER THREE

The sound of deep laughter stirred Calliope awake. She blinked a few times before remembering she was home, in her old room, resting on the same twin bed she’d had since forever. She reached over and grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand and checked the time.

“Holy crap.” She tossed back the multicolored crocheted blanket her grandma made and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She arched her back, stretched her arms high overhead, and let loose with a jaw-cracking yawn.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a nap, let alone one that lasted almost three hours.

Calliope put on her sneakers, walked out of her room and straight across the hall to the bathroom. She shut the door, used the toilet, ran the cold water—which wasn’t really all that cold—and washed her hands. She splashed some on her face, checked her reflection in the mirror, and saw that some hair had come loose from her pigtails. She slid the hair rubber bands free, dug through her bag of bathroom stuff until she found her comb, and ran it through her long hair. Once her pigtails were nice and tight, she flipped off the light and followed the sounds of conversation and the smell of fish frying in the kitchen. The wood floor creaked and groaned, announcing her arrival.

“Well, hello there, sleepyhead.” Her granddad stood in front of the stove and smiled over his shoulder at her. “I take it you slept well?”

“I did.” She rubbed her hands over her face. “I haven’t slept that soundly in a long time.”

“You must’ve needed it after that long drive from Virginia.” Her dad sat at a wooden table set against the wall, below one of the windows in the kitchen. He lifted his white ceramic mug and took a sip of coffee as one of his fingertips slid around on the touchpad of his laptop.

“I must have.” She dragged out a chair next to him. “Whatcha reading?” She leaned sideways to sneak a peek at the screen and was surprised to see a headshot of Andi O’Halleran. “Are you reading Andi’s research papers?”

“Yep.” He set his mug down on the vinyl, red-and-white checkered tablecloth. “Since you work with her, I was curious and wanted to find out more about her.”

“She’s a total badass and really smart, too.” Calliope looked up to Andi—literally and figuratively—and had enjoyed the few ops they’d worked on together.

They’d just completed a very personal one involving Jeffrey Burke, the crazy powerful head of the National Security Agency. Unfortunately, she wasn’t free to discuss much about her work with her dad and granddad. They respected that and never pressed for information.

Andi was married to Jonathan O’Halleran, and they ran OSI’s training center in Whidbey Cove, Washington, up near the San Juan Islands. OSI had two other locations—the headquarters just outside of San Francisco run by Beck O’Halleran, and a facility in Fredericksburg, Virginia, where the Dark Ops division was located and where she now lived.

All six of the O’Halleran siblings—five boys and one girl—and their significant others worked for the company in some capacity. They were all high-achieving, super skilled, and just plain old good people who were big on family, honor, and loyalty. So much so that it was their company credo.

Calliope loved that and so much more about working for OSI.

Initially, she’d wondered if she had what it took to do the job. She had the skills, for sure, but sighting up a human being and taking them out was totally different. But experience had taught her that some humans were beyond saving. She’d learned that lesson when she was eleven years old.

A man had murdered his ex-wife and kidnapped their five-year-old son. The law caught up with him, and he’d led them on a dangerous, high-speed car chase through multiple counties that ended with him crashing into a ditch near their property. He’d bailed out with the little boy and took off into the swamp, like an idiot.

Law enforcement had asked folks to help find them, and, of course, all three members of the Daniels family had willingly volunteered.

The regional lead officer from the state police was adamant she not get involved in the search. Said she was too little and too young. Which had kinda ticked Calliope off.

Tobias, the local wildlife officer who’d known her since she was old enough to stand on her own, had vouched for her.

“Trust me, you might want to let her help,” he’d said. “She knows these swamps better than most anyone.”

“Not gonna happen.” At that, he’d turned and walked over to a group gathering near an airboat being backed into the water.

“Sorry, guys, you heard the man,” Tobias had said loud enough for the lead officer to hear. Then he’d turned back to them, stepped closer, and lowered his voice. “What you do on your own property is none of my business. And honestly, I think she’d be safer sticking close to you two.” Then he’d winked at them.

“Ah, gotcha.” Her dad nodde d

“You be careful.” Tobias shook her dad and granddad’s hands, put his big hand on her head and tousled her hair, then joined the group.

They started jogging back to their house.

“That fella out there is gonna hear that damn airboat coming from a mile away,” her granddad grumbled.

“We’ll just need to find him first,” her dad replied.

They loaded a set of oars into their flat-bottom boat and positioned it on the sandy bank about fifty feet away. Calliope climbed in first, followed by her granddad. Her dad gave them a good shove, hopped in, and they headed out into the dark swamp with nothing but their rifles, a few small flashlights, and the full moon to guide them.

It had taken about two hours of paddling through high grass before they heard the sound of a child crying. The terrified sounds coming from that little boy affected her deeply and, without her knowing it at the time, had set her course for the future.

They’d tied off the boat and slipped over the side into water that came up to Calliope’s chest. She held her rifle over her head and went to the right. Her dad went straight, and Granddad headed off to the left. Less than ten minutes later, she heard her dad’s voice.

“Come on, buddy, just put the child over there on that patch of grass,” he said. “It’s too dangerous to be out here at night. There are gators and snakes—”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” the man screamed, making the child cry even louder. “That stupid bitch was trying to take my kid away from me.”

Actually, from what the police said, it was the courts who’d made that decision. Apparently, he had a bad habit of knocking his wife and the little boy around.

Calliope peered through the tall grass and saw the man standing with his back to the big cypress that had split down the middle during the last hurricane. The little boy was tucked beneath his arm like a football, and his little bare feet dangled beneath the surface of the water.

She raised her rifle and sighted the man in with her night vision scope until the crosshairs were centered over the bright green figure of the father. The child’s precarious position meant accuracy was critical, but she’d made trickier shots before. Her heart raced, and she questioned whether she could really do what needed to be done. Killing a deer or gator was one thing; killing another human being was a whole other matter.

Those doubts were quickly dispelled when Granddad waded out of the brush across from her and showed himself.

“I’m sorry, son, but it’s time to turn yourself in.” His voice was gentle, and his rifle was only partially raised.

“I said, shut up!” The man swung his arm toward her grandad, lifted his hand, and that’s when she spotted the gun .

Calliope didn’t hesitate. She squeezed the trigger once, and a bright blast shot from the end of the barrel. The gun slid from his hand and dropped into the water. He started to fall sideways, and her dad rushed over just in time to grab the child before he hit the water.

Instantly, everything went silent and still—except for the odd ringing in her ears. It was as if the swamp and every single creature and plant in it were holding their breath. As if the night itself was holding its breath.

She’d just killed someone—another human being. An internal debate raged inside her young mind and heart. He’d been a horrible, awful person, but maybe there was a good reason why he was that way. But if she hadn’t shot him, he would’ve killed her granddad. She had absolutely no doubt about that.

Realizing she’d been holding her breath, she filled her lungs with the smell of the swamp, and all of the sounds and movement of the night rushed back to her.

They’d waited until law enforcement arrived, then headed back to the boat. They’d loaded up, started home, and she’d thrown up over the side twice. Maybe that was her body’s way of cleansing her of what she’d done. Either way, she hadn’t slept a wink that night.

Calliope remembered those moments in time with such profound clarity, you would think it happened yesterday.

There’d been an investigation, and the shooting had been declared righteous. A story ran in the paper and on the Internet, and for several days after it happened, the media had been blowing up their phone trying to get an interview with her. Thankfully, her dad refused, and they eventually stopped calling.

It wasn’t until after this event that they finally agreed to talk to her about their previous careers as snipers. They made sure she understood that taking a life was something you never forget, that it leaves an indelible mark on your soul, even if it’s done for the right reasons.

Knowing how it could affect her, they’d had her talk to a therapist a few times to ensure she wasn’t screwed up forever. After that, her life returned to normal.

Working for OSI gave her the opportunity to save other children—children trapped in the nightmare of human trafficking.

Her dad’s voice grabbed her attention.

“Andi’s research into behavioral anomalies and investigative interviewing must come in real handy.” People might dismiss her dad as some hillbilly redneck, but he was incredibly intelligent and very well-read.

He also never gave a shit about what anyone thought of him and had taught his daughter to live her life the same way. Being true to one’s self and your beliefs was incredibly freeing.

“We call her a human lie detector.” Calliope stood, walked over to the fridge, and pulled it open. She reached in, grabbed a can of soda, and popped the top. “Andi can figure out if someone’s lying just by the words they use or the way their facial muscles react.” She took a long swallow of the cold, sugary liquid.

“Now, aren’t ya glad we made you take that job?” Granddad dipped a piece of fish in his special batter and used his bare fingers to place it in the cast iron skillet. The plump fillet popped and sizzled in the hot oil and turned golden brown.

“Yeah, you were both right.” And she wasn’t ashamed to admit it. “It’s the perfect job for me.”

Before going to work for OSI, she’d helped her dad with his handyman business or working on people’s vehicles in his shop out back. She’d become pretty skilled with a hammer and a wrench. Occasionally, she’d earned a bit of prize money at a shooting match. She’d made enough to support herself and chip in toward the household expenses.

They hadn’t been rich when she was growing up, but they hadn’t been poor either. They were always able to put fresh food on the table, keep a roof over their heads, and treat themselves to the occasional movie at the local theater. The only television they watched was whatever they could manage to get with a rusty old pair of rabbit ear antennas mounted on the roof. Calliope didn’t much care, because she preferred being outside, playing in the woods, learning to appreciate the land and all it had to offer .

She had friends she went to school with, but they didn’t spend much time at her house. The girls were afraid to come out for sleepovers because they were scared of pretty much everything. And when she reached dating age, most of the boys were intimidated by her.

Hell, the first time she ever had sex was when she went away to college for a year. His name was Tim, and he was in her English class. He was a nice enough guy but didn’t exactly set the bar very high when it came to sexual experiences. After a year, she left college and returned home. She’d gotten tired of trying to stay awake during boring, useless classes that were costing her more than what she’d been making back home.

OSI paid commensurate with the level of danger involved in their jobs, and now she was earning more money than she could spend. Heck, her truck was the most extravagant thing she’d ever owned, and she’d had to be talked into buying it.

Her teammate Hawk, real name David Nakai, convinced her she’d earned it and should “treat herself.” He even went with her to the dealership. Not because he was concerned about a condescending salesman taking advantage of her. On the contrary, he said he wanted to watch her run circles around them because she knew more about the truck than any salesman working there.

Hawk was a fascinating guy. He was Native American and had been taught to track by his father, who’d been taught by his father before him. Calliope was a pretty good tracker, but she couldn’t come close to Hawk’s innate skill. He had a way of seeing and sensing things no one else could, like he had a connection to the earth or something.

He’d recently begun working with a black Lab named Remy who was trained to detect ESDs—electronic storage devices, like hard drives, microSD cards, and stuff like that. Remy was invaluable to their mission to take down sex traffickers, and he was super fun to have around.

Hawk and Remy were both trackers, so it seemed natural for them to work together.

She liked and respected Hawk and all of the other men on her team, but they were all just friends and treated her like one of the guys, which was how she liked it. And anyway, lately, she hadn’t had time to even think about being with someone in that way .

Liar.

Lucas O’Halleran’s handsome, whiskered face popped into her head like it did from time to time. And it was super annoying because he was all kinds of wrong for her.

He was an O’Halleran cousin, and the last time she saw him was when they were on a mission in Colombia to rescue her boss’s wife after she was kidnapped by a crazed psychopath who happened to be a brother Dulce never knew about.

Long story short—it did not end well for him .

During the op, Lucas had supplied them with an old Vietnam-era helicopter to get to where they needed to go. Apparently, the guy was supposed to be some sort of hero helicopter pilot, but you’d never know it to look at him. When she’d met him, they’d shared a few snarky comments and she’d been busy gearing up. But his image from that night was burned into her brain.

He’d had on some old, faded rock band T-shirt, Bermuda shorts, and was smoking a big, stinky cigar. He was cocky, sloppy, way too laid-back, and so gorgeous he practically melted her panties from across the tarmac. He was also haunted by something—she’d seen it in his eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” Her dad gave her a suspicious look.

“What? Oh, nothing.” Her cheeks heated, and she lifted the can so they wouldn’t see her reaction to mere thoughts of a man she’d only met once.

“Why don’t you set the table, Callie Girl.” Granddad removed the last fillet from the pan and added it to the pile on the platter next to him. He turned off the burner and set the cast-iron skillet aside.

“Sure.” She finished off the soda and tossed the can in the small recycle bin.

Calliope grabbed some plates and glasses from the cupboard and silverware from the drawer and shoved it closed with her hip. She walked over and set them out on the table .

Her dad pulled a bowl from the fridge covered by cling wrap that had a big tossed salad in it and dug the tongs out of the second drawer. She could tell by looking at it that the vegetables had come from the garden at the back of the house. He set the salad on the table and grabbed a couple of bottles of different kinds of dressing.

“This looks amazing.” She peeled the wrap off the top, threw it away, and gave the salad a good toss. She snuck a cherry tomato and hummed at the juiciness as she sat in her usual seat.

Her dad refilled his coffee mug and settled into his chair across from her. He started his day with coffee, drank it pretty much throughout the day and into the evening, and still managed to get at least eight hours of sleep every night. Hard work defeats caffeine every time.

She thought back to his coughing fit in the driveway.

“Dad, are you sure that cough is just left over from a cold?” She jabbed her fork in a couple of fillets and set them on her plate next to her salad. “It sounded pretty bad.”

“That’s what I’ve been tellin’ him for two weeks.” Her granddad poured two glasses of milk and set one by his plate and the other in front of Calliope. “He’s too darn stubborn to admit it could be somethin’ else.”

“Good grief, you two. If I promise to go see the doc, can we just relax and enjoy our dinner?” He stabbed two plump fillets for himself and scooped some tartar sauce onto his plate.

“Sure.” She pointed at him with her fork. “But I’m going to hold you to that promise.” She wrapped her fingers around the glass of ice-cold milk and took a long swallow. “Man, I’ve missed fresh milk.”

“Speaking of milk … Peterson’s son still asks about ya.” Her dad smirked as he held a forkful of fish to his mouth. “Said he’d like to see you while you’re home.”

The Petersons owned the local dairy farm where they always bought their fresh milk.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” She rolled her eyes. “Ernie’s ego is so big he won’t accept the fact that I am in no way interested in him.”

Never have been. Never will be.

“I don’t know, Callie Girl, them Petersons have a lot of money.” Her granddad loved to tease her about Ernie.

“I don’t care if they’re bazillionaires. I am not going out with Ernie Peterson.” She took a bite of salad and the fresh greens, celery, and carrots were crunchy and packed with flavor.

Ernie was two years older than Calliope and had started asking her out after she turned sixteen. She’d been turning him down ever since.

One time, she was at one of their hokey school dances and he kept grabbing her arm and trying to pull her onto the dance floor. She’d accidentally bent his thumb back in that painful way her dad taught her, and he’d squealed like a stuck pig.

By that point in the evening, he’d had a bit too much of the moonshine he distilled in the woods behind his daddy’s barn and hadn’t taken too kindly to being embarrassed in front of all their friends. All hopped up on teenage testosterone, hundred-thirty-proof corn mash whiskey, and rejection, he’d made the mistake of following Calliope to her truck.

Suffice to say, he’d showed up to school on Monday with a busted lip and a pretty colorful shiner. If memory served, he was walking a little funny, too. None of that would’ve happened if he hadn’t gotten so handsy, thinking she was too small to defend herself.

Calliope had quickly disavowed him of that ill-informed notion.

“He is a bit of a chucklehead, isn’t he?” Her dad huffed out a laugh that turned into a raspy cough.

She gave her granddad a worried look and started to say something. But he gave a subtle shake of his head, and she remained silent.

Her dad’s face was red and strained as he coughed and hacked into his napkin for another minute or so before returning to his meal like nothing was wrong.

As she watched him struggle to catch his breath, Calliope made a mental note to call Doc Willoughby first thing in the morning. Gabriel Daniels had a stubborn streak a mile wide, and if she didn’t take charge, he would use every trick available to stall until she had to head back to Virginia. Thing was, his daughter had inherited his stubbornness and wasn’t above tying him up and carting him to the doc’s office in the bed of her damn truck, if that was what it took.

Decision made, she allowed herself to enjoy her granddad’s awesome fish, her dad’s incredible salad, and getting caught up on the local happenings.

Calliope had missed these quiet evenings, hanging out with them, talking about everything and nothing. When she was younger, her friends complained whenever they had to spend any kind of time with their parents. She actually loved hanging out with her dad and granddad because nothing her friends had to say was nearly as interesting as what these two men would share with her.