Chapter Twenty-Two

"I killed them," Shane explained honestly to Alex from where he'd crouched alongside the hefty body of the dead man he'd dragged into the barn. He'd hoped to speak with Mark or Sasha, but got his boss. "They meant to kill Everlee, so I killed them first. No identification on any of these three guys. Sending mugshots and fingerprints now." He texted the two pictures he'd already taken, along with two sets of blackened fingerprint cards from the kit he carried. "Will send the third set as soon as I'm done. But Everlee said some woman's in charge, not these guys. She heard her order them to kill her."

"How's Ev? She hurt?"

Shane twisted his neck and stared at the closed barn door behind him. "A little banged up is all. Tuesday's taking care of her right now. They're outside the barn. I didn't want them anywhere near these dead bastards."

"Good call. How about you?"

"I'm good." Said every man ever.

What surprised Shane was Alex hadn't asked why Tuesday was taking care of Everlee. Instead, he said, almost casually, "Tuesday, huh?"

"Yeah, Tuesday. She's not who the FBI said she is. They're wrong, totally off-base. After the SUV rolled, she stayed with the wreck, Boss. With me. I was unconscious, still hung-up in my seatbelt. She got me out of the SUV and dragged me away from it. She could've run. Most criminals would've, but she stayed, also gave credible intel on Everlee's condition and which direction these jackasses went. So I need you to double-check her prints, too. Make sure we've got the real Tuesday Smart." He dipped into his rear pocket for his wallet and pulled out the card with the prints from the water bottle she'd tossed in the garbage the night before at Smoke's.

"She know why they took Ev? She hear anything?"

"No, Tuesday was still hung up in her seatbelt when they touched down. She wasn't close enough to hear anything before they took off with Ev. But Everlee said the woman behind the kidnapping was pissed at these three for taking the wrong woman."

"Not professionals then."

"Not even close. These three jerks look like wannabe thugs, all dressed up in identical black suits, packing plenty of muscle, but no brains. Found two Dirty Harry specials, knives, and knuckle gloves on them. Their boss is framing Ms. Smart. I'm almost sure of it."

There was a quiet grunt from Virginia, as if Alex were thinking. "But why impersonate Tuesday? Is that what you're thinking? That the woman behind Ev's abduction and all these false accusations intentionally set up Tuesday Smart? That this mystery woman deliberately assumed Tuesday Smart's appearance, which means plastic surgery, to frame the real Tuesday Smart?"

Well, since you put it like that… Shane wasn't sure what to think. Other than he believed the real Tuesday Smart was the woman sitting outside the barn with Everlee. He'd never have left Everlee if he hadn't believed Tuesday. And believed in her.

"Sounds crazy, I know," he admitted.

"Think about what you're saying," Alex said. "To get away with everything she's done, the woman you're accusing would have to look exactly like Tuesday. Yet it's definitely Tuesday Smart's signature on her marriage certificate with Atchison Bremmer. Every medical file for those two dead children, from their birth certificates to their well-baby doctor visits, supports the FBI's evidence that the woman you're protecting killed her husband and her kids. It's her face in that hallway security footage. When her little boy had to have tubes put in his ears, Tuesday Bremmer, the woman you're protecting, signed for the procedure. She had to provide proper identification at the hospital. They have her face on their security footage, too. It's not just that the FBI is hard set to arrest Ms. Smart, Shane. It's that they have rock solid evidence she's a killer."

"Then you'd better check those signatures against this Tuesday's handwriting, Alex. Because I'm telling you, the woman who killed Mr. Bremmer and those kids is not this Tuesday Smart. Trust me. I'm not wrong."

A grunt came across the connection. "You honestly believe someone who looks exactly like Tuesday Smart is who we should be after. Is that right? If you believe Smart, the woman in your custody, then you also believe an unknown mystery woman, the same one who had Everlee kidnapped, killed Lamb, Bremmer, and the… the others."

Shane caught the hesitation in Alex's last two words. Which was interesting for a man as driven as he was. It was a tell, an unconscious outward signal that Alex had, or knew someone, who had prior experience with other child murders. But that was a mystery for another day.

He answered his boss with a loud and clear, "Yes. Absolutely. I believe the Tuesday Smart in my custody. She is not a killer, and she did not murder Atchison Bremmer or his kids. Whoever the real murderer is, she has a hard-on for Tuesday, else why destroy her life like she has?"

"Not a serial killer, though."

"No, more like a woman who's obsessed. Someone who believes with a frightening intensity that she's been slighted. I don't know why or how. Maybe it's jealousy. Fake Tuesday Smart is pissed that the real Tuesday Smart married Frederick Lamb. Fake Tuesday Smart planned on being his wife."

"But the woman with you and Ev didn't really marry Mr. Lamb, did she? Not like a wife marries her real husband."

Shane cocked his head at the very astute observation coming from a man on the other side of the country. "All I know is that I've seen some pretty whacked-out sickos overseas, and some of them were women. But I'm not getting that vibe from the Tuesday Smart traveling with us. I believe she's innocent. That she's exactly who she says she is, and you do, too, don't you? That's why you sent me and Everlee to track her down. You want us to prove you right and get to her before the FBI does."

"No, I sent you and Everlee to protect a woman the media has slandered since the day this story bubbled to the surface of their alleged free-speech cesspool. Common people don't stand a chance against the machine called free press these days." Alex made ‘press' sound like a dirty word. "Lawyers willing to fight that kind of slander cost money most common folks don't have, damn it. I do. This is who we are, Shane. We fight for the little guys, understood?"

Shane smiled at the vehemence coming loud and clear through the connection. "I'd say ‘yes, sir' , but you'd probably make me walk the plank, wouldn't you?" You son of a bitchin' Marine.

"Damned straight," Alex growled.

And just like that, a faithful, devoted servant was born. Shane grinned, because that servant was him. He already knew Alex Stewart was one of those rare leaders who never sent his people into battle without proper equipment, intelligence, or air support. This was his way of flying cover. He might show up in person and lead when needed, but more often, he'd delegate with authority, and lead them in spirit. Shane knew he'd follow Alex Stewart into Hell and back.

"Hold on, Shane, ahh, yes. Here's your answer, once and for all. Mother just informed me that the set of prints you just sent belong to the real Tuesday Smart. Mother validated them against Tuesday's high school and college records. The woman with you is who she says she is."

"So, why'd the FBI give us her location? Why'd they offload this particular operation to you? Why didn't they track her down and arrest her themselves? They already knew where she lived. Why put all this work and rework on us, I mean, you?"

Alex cleared his throat. "They may or may not have known they gave up that information," he deadpanned.

Which made Shane smile. "You hacked the FBI, didn't you? You're the reason they wanted a TEAM contract because you manipulated them into asking for help. Am I right?" How is that even possible?

"I will neither confirm nor deny. Let's just say that Mother's still accumulating all security footage and information on the woman in your custody," Alex replied smugly.

Yup, the cocky bastard knew all along he'd sent Shane and Everlee to rescue the real Tuesday Smart.

Alex continued with, "Tuesday's departures last year and this year were either from SeaTac in Washington or DFW in Dallas. Mother's also tasked her overseas contacts to assist. So far, they've turned up sightings of the real Tuesday's infils and exfils as far north as Canada, Norway, Russia, and Sweden. All from private, off-the-grid runways, flying into and out of the Arctic Circle. She's been a busy woman, but we still may not find the person you believe is stalking her."

"Someone waiting for her arrivals at stateside airports would make better sense. Not sure about those far north sightings," Shane said. "Anyone going into those extreme places would have to be determined as hell. Does that sound like any black widow you've come across?"

"Never underestimate women. They're smart, and they can be as cruel as any man. Ever hear of Catalina Montego? Ethel Durrant? Son of a bitchin' Lucy Delaney?"

"Can't say that I have," Shane replied, not sure what those women had to do with Tuesday.

"Good," was all the snarky comeback Alex offered. "What's your plan going forward?"

Shane glanced down at the dead body at his knee. He'd been inside the silo. He'd found Everlee's boots tossed aside in the dark, and he'd seen the evidence of her courageous escape. But he'd also seen blood spatter on the walls inside that wooden death chamber. Everlee was right. Others had surely died there. She would've been next if not for Mother's astute tracking ability.

Shane's first instinct was to burn the barn down, the dead assholes with it. Instead, his strong sense of justice prevailed. "The FBI needs to process this building, Alex. There's DNA evidence all over the walls inside the silo. I'm positive others were murdered, maybe tortured, here. Their families deserve to know what happened to them."

"Consider it done. What else?"

"I'm taking Everlee to a hospital." Somehow. "She won't like it, but she's been through a ton of shit today. She needs to speak with a counselor and…" Shane paused. "I'll need transportation to make that happen, but…"

There he stalled. There were two women counting on him, but he couldn't take Everlee into a hospital without risking Tuesday's freedom. Police officers tended to visit hospitals and emergency rooms. It'd only take one observant, conscientious officer or doctor to ruin everything. He changed his mind. "Never mind. I can't risk Tuesday to save Everlee anymore than I can risk Everlee to save Tuesday. I'll figure something out."

"How? You have no car. You're in the middle of nowhere."

"Yeah, well…" Shane pinched the bridge of his nose, the firestorm beginning to rage in the very center of his skull. Which meant a migraine would soon dictate complete rest, total darkness, and a nearby bucket for projectile vomit. "I've been in worse situations. I'll figure it out." Somehow.

"You're one stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?"

"Remind you of anyone?" Like you, you bastard?

"Stay where you are," Alex growled. "The FBI won't be there for hours even after I contact them. Keep the women hydrated and cool. You do the same. Help is on its way."

"No," Shane said firmly. "Ev and I started this. We'll end it. We'll be in touch."

Silence. Then a curt, "Then I want a son of a bitchin' sit rep every twenty-four hours."

"Can do." Shane ended the connection before Alex could give him more hell or force him to stand down. There was no way he'd hang around waiting to be saved. Marines were first in and last out. It was past time he proved he was just as tough as, maybe tougher than, his boss.

Shane recognized the differences in the women with him. Whereas at first glance, Tuesday seemed more timid and feminine, a people pleaser who wanted to be left alone, she was also resourceful, sincere, and loyal. She'd stayed with him after the crash and helped him until he was back on his feet. That spoke volumes. The woman had empathy. She cared about those two dead kids and their father, and she'd been authentically shocked at the way they'd been murdered. There was no disguising emotion like that.

Everlee, on the other hand, was a no-kidding ball-buster from the ground up. She thrived on adrenaline, and the woman was tough as nails. She didn't want nice or quiet like Tuesday. She wanted in-your-face action. Only, at the same time, she didn't.

Shane looked over his shoulder at the closed door. That kiss of hers was the hottest thing he'd handled in his entire life. The moment he'd wrested control from her, Everlee had damned near melted in his hands like a brick of butter. She might be a hellcat on the surface and while on the job, but he had a feeling there was a completely different woman beneath that former AF Lieutenant fa?ade. She desperately wanted someone on her side, someone strong enough to back her up and call her on her weak or foolish moments. And he wanted to be that guy.

Sure, she led with plenty of bluster and bravado. What former military leader didn't? Especially officers? Even he tended to lead with his chin, a definite Devil Dog trait. That was what years in the military did, it created leaders. Go-getters. People who stepped up and took charge when needed, and sometimes, when it wasn't needed. But he had a feeling the woman behind all that over-confident, in your face, you-want-a-piece-of-me persona that Everlee did so well, wouldn't mind having the right male on her six. Maybe in her bed. She'd demand respect, that was easy enough to read. And in Shane's mind, a given. Women should be respected, damn it. Least until they proved themselves unworthy of it. Like the shrew impersonating Tuesday.

His gut told him to tread easy with Everlee, though, especially since her ex still stalked her. It was obvious she had needs that Butch-the-whiner never understood. What a mismatched pair, her, the ultimate competitor and winner; him, a total loser. What had she ever seen in the guy?

Lifting to his feet, Shane looked down at the three dead men one last time. He hadn't come back in here to desecrate their bodies. Their mortal injuries were desecration enough. All were facedown. All were deceased. He'd double-checked, and regardless of their condition, he would've administered first-aid if they'd required it. But they hadn't and he was thankful for that. He wasn't the monster. They were. He didn't need to prove anything, other than he was the one walking out of there.

For now, he needed to do precisely what Alex said. But a sparkling aura had swarmed his vision, blocking the clarity a sniper required. Squaring his shoulders, Shane left the dead to their eternal damnation, and aimed for the exit and the only two people in the state of Arkansas who mattered. They needed to know what to expect while he battled with what he hoped was the final demon of the day. And he needed Everlee to take control of their two gear bags.

Shoving the door open, he winced when the brutal light from the setting sun stabbed his eyes. Closing them to forestall the pain, he let his chin drop to his chest. Shit. This was going to hurt.