Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Rio Blanco, Puerto Jardin

Present Day

FINN'S FRUSTRATION mounted. He was back on the outskirts of Rio Blanco, holed up in a safe house with his former team as they got ready for their mission. The sun was coming up, and while he knew he was lucky they were willing to take him along to Trujillo, he wanted to go now. Opening a drawer in the kitchen, he sifted through the contents before closing it again.

Everyone had something to handle. Except for him. Finn opened the next drawer. If he were still part of the team, he'd have things to do, too, things that might take his mind off his worry for Zo. That was a lie. She meant too much to him to stop thinking about the danger she was in, no matter how busy he kept himself.

Nothing useful in this drawer, either. He went to the next. Jackpot. He grabbed the scissors.

The cramped washroom off the kitchen barely had enough room for a toilet, a sink, and a small mirror. Finn flipped on the light, grimaced at how dim it was, and raised the scissors to his head. The police and military would be looking for a man with light blond hair, but the sun had turned it that color. His natural shade was dark blond, and if he cut off a couple of inches, it would change his appearance. He wouldn't pass close muster, but a brief glance? Yeah, in that case, he should be able to slip by without being recaptured.

As he continued to snip, his hair went from shaggy to short. Shorter than he'd worn it in years. Even in the Army, his hair had been long for undercover ops, but now it was above his ears. Finn grimaced, not liking the length, but it altered his appearance as much as the color change, and that could only help.

He finished the area of his head that he could see and moved the scissors to the back. Finn hesitated. This was dicey. He didn't want to mess up and look like he had mange, but the light blond had to go. He grabbed a lock of hair, shifted the scissors, and cut.

Shit. Too much.

Finn tossed the hair in the sink with the rest and reached for another section.

"Whoa, dude! You're going to put a divot in the back of your head." Griff stood just outside the doorway to the bathroom.

Turning, he held the scissors out handle first to his buddy. "Here. You do it then."

Raising his hands, Griff backed away. "I'm a medic, damn it, not a barber."

"How long have you been waiting to say that?"

Griff smirked. "My whole life."

"Can you help with this, or are you working?"

"I can help," Griff said. "You realize, though, that this disguise is on par with putting on a pair of glasses and calling yourself Clark Kent, right?"

"It's all I got." And when he shifted his mannerisms and body language, it would help sell the small physical change.

Reluctantly, Griff reached for the scissors. "We might as well move this to the kitchen because there's no way both of us are going to fit in this broom closet. Besides, the light is better there."

Finn followed Griff to the kitchen and sat at the table. Slowly, Griff began to cut the hair on the back of Finn's head.

After a long silence, Griff asked, "What are you going to do once we reach Trujillo?"

With a silent sigh, Finn said, "Get to San Isidro."

"And?"

"And find Zo."

"That's not a plan, that's a travel itinerary."

"I don't know what's going on. I don't know who's involved except that they have enough power, money, and influence to bring in the presidential brigade. I don't know what kind of risk Zo is facing. What would you suggest as a plan?"

"Fuck," Griff muttered. He kept cutting. "There's nothing on your phone that's going to lead them to San Isidro or your woman, is there?"

"No," Finn said slowly. He mentally ran through everything loaded on there again to double-check and repeated, "No. The phone is secure. I spent too many years in Special Forces to take a risk with data. I wish someone would have grabbed it, my keys, and my passport, though, since you'd already orchestrated a rescue."

"It'll wipe, right?" Griff kept cutting, ignoring Finn's mild complaint.

"Three incorrect password attempts, or hooking up a universal key device, will erase everything and brick the cell," Finn confirmed .

"Good." A pause, then, "Why'd you have to choose a woman who regularly travels to Puerto Jardin and always seems to be in the middle of a shitstorm? Why couldn't you have picked someone normal like Ski did?"

Finn nearly choked. His memory flashed back to Lake Tahoe and Langley shooting an assault weapon like a seasoned soldier, and he remembered acting as Ski's best man when he married Langley on her parents' multi-million dollar Palm Beach estate. He half-turned in his seat. "Normal? You think Ski's wife is normal ?"

"Hold still. I'm going to try to even out the mess you made of your hair. And yeah, the hellcat is back home. Where's your firecracker?"

"With a little luck, safely tucked away at the inn in San Isidro. And normal isn't interesting."

"Then you haven't been bored in two years. With the shit going down, odds are she's not in San Isidro. Where are you going to look then? Does she know you're on your way?"

"She knows, so she'll stay in the area. If not around town, then around the ruins."

"Since she's probably armed to the teeth by now, how are you going to approach without getting killed? If the situation she's in is as bad as it looks, she'll shoot first and ask questions later."

"I'll figure it out when I find her."

"More great planning on your part."

"Going undercover is mostly improv. I'm used to working things out on the fly." Griff grunted, paused in his cutting, and then resumed. Little flecks of hair rained down on Finn's cheeks, and he closed his eyes.

"There," Griff said after a moment. "Now, you don't look like a kid who was playing with his mom's scissors."

Finn stood and brushed the hair off his shirt and neck. "Thanks. I appreciate the hand."

"Friends help each other." Griff shrugged and changed the subject. "Zo might not recognize you with your hair so short."

Grabbing the broom and dustpan from the corner, Finn said, "She'll figure it out." He started to sweep the mess they left on the floor. "Do you know when we're going to roll out of here?"

"Sergeant Griffin, I believe Sergeant Lundquist could use some help. Why don't you find him," a voice said from the doorway.

"Yes, sir," Griff said and left to follow orders.

The tone nearly had Finn coming to attention before he remembered he was a civilian. He continued sweeping until he had the floor cleared, and then he emptied the dustpan in the trash. He'd have to clean the sink later after the captain was finished with him.

He put the broom back where he'd found it. "What's up, BD?"

Captain Nguyen stood, arms crossed over his chest, his expression neutral. Instead of replying, he studied Finn. Involuntarily, Finn straightened. Maybe he should have been more formal. He tried again. "I wanted to thank you, captain, for sending in a team to help me escape. I appreciate the assist."

The captain waved the gratitude away. "Why don't we sit down and talk?"

"Yes, sir." The reserved tone worried Finn. He took the chair indicated, but the captain continued to stare at him even after they were seated.

"You're supposed to be in LA," the other man said at last.

"That was the plan, sir." No response. It was tempting to fill the silence, but that was what the captain was hoping for. Finn was too well-trained and had gone undercover too many times to fall for that trick.

"What changed your plan?" Captain Nguyen asked at last.

"My woman." The captain arched his eyebrows, wordlessly asking for more details. "I told you when we met in Tampa that Zo was in Puerto Jardin, that I was supposed to be with her. She ran into some kind of problem, and no, sir, I don't know what happened. I landed at LAX when my boss called. He told me Zo was in trouble, and that his admin had booked me on the next flight to Rio Blanco. That's why I'm here. For Zo, nothing else."

"And you asked Griffin when we were leaving because…?"

"You know why, captain. Until I reach Zo, she's on her own against someone with enough clout to involve the Puerto Jardinese government. I want to get to San Isidro ASAP."

The captain shifted in his chair. "That must mean you believe your arrest is tied to what's going on with Zo."

"It has to be. I don't believe this is some fluke, sir."

After a moment of silence, Captain Nguyen said casually, "You've spent time with some interesting people since you left the Army, especially when you've traveled to Puerto Jardin."

Finn took a moment to orient himself for the trip through this minefield. "Zo and I work for the Paladin League. My job is to protect Zo. Part of her job is to meet with people who might have information about stolen artifacts. Most of those men are criminals."

"Why does the Paladin League want to know about stolen artifacts?"

"If you can identify the pipeline, there might be a way to shut it down." Two years away from undercover work, and lying still came easily. Finn didn't feel an iota of guilt about it though he should—he liked and admired the captain—but protecting Zo came first, last, and always.

More silence, then Captain Nguyen asked, "What's your plan?"

Part of Finn was relieved his story had been accepted, but part of him was annoyed everyone wanted to know what his strategy was. "Find Zo and get her home. The details are up in the air. "

The other man's lips curved. "Once you locate her, I could arrange for her to return to LA."

"And in exchange?" Finn asked the question although he knew what the hook was.

"In exchange, you reprise your role of Tom Finley."

Bingo. "I already turned down the chance to freelance in Tampa."

"That was when you were headed for Los Angeles. That was before you needed to get your woman out of Puerto Jardin. You know it will be easier if I make the arrangements for her trip home. Safer for Zofia, too."

He shrugged. "I can get Zo out safely on my own."

The captain changed tactics. "We could use the help. Like I said in the States, this assignment would go much more smoothly with you involved."

Finn didn't ask about the operation. No details had been provided when they'd met in Tampa, and unless he signed on, no intel would be passed on now either. He was about 99% certain they were going after Torres again. It's why they were headed to Trujillo, and it's why Captain Nguyen wanted Tom Finley back.

"I was discharged two years ago. Why hasn't someone else moved in to fill this type of role?"

Captain Nguyen shrugged. "We haven't found anyone with your ability to transform personality so easily, so believably. You're not playing a role, you become that person, and as it turns out, that's a rare skill."

It was a talent he'd picked up bouncing around foster care, trying to fit in somewhere so he could stay in one house and not be moved to another. He'd wanted a place to belong. He hadn't realized what he was doing at the time, but Finn had morphed himself into whoever his new foster family wanted him to be. It hadn't worked. A few months, sometimes weeks, and he'd be shipped off to the next home .

"Not that rare," Finn disagreed. "Hollywood has more men and women with this talent than they have jobs for."

"And how many of them could pull it off without a script while surrounded by men who would kill them if they slipped up?" BD shook his head. "I stand by my statement. You have an unusual skill, and we could use it. We need you on this assignment."

Finn felt a tug. He hadn't missed the missions, but he missed the teamwork, the camaraderie, and matching wits with the bad guys. Once Zo was on her way home—

He cut the thought short.

"Sorry, sir. Zo is my priority, and I'm taking her back to LA. You'll have to figure something else out."