It was hot and muggy at the truck stop the next week, when Trina got the call from Carl, the ministry leader, that she and Rob were needed again. The stop’s owner allowed them to set up outside the main entrance, off to the side. The tables were away from the larger throngs of motor travelers coming in and out of the combination fast-food/convenience store/coffee shop establishment. Trina did a quick walk-through of the building, re-familiarizing herself with all entrances. There were full showers and lockers in the back for the truckers, all rentals. When she was done, she sat down at one of the outreach tables.
“I’m thinking I should pose as a trucker and go hang out in the shower. Don’t you think there’d be conversations to overhear?” Rob spoke as yet another eighteen-wheeler drove into the huge lot, pulling parallel with another humongous trailer truck. It had freshly painted fruits and vegetables on the side of its trailer, with a popular grocery chain’s name painted over the images. At least three dozen trucks with connected trailers were parked in parallel, making the parking lot look more like a village.
“I think that the women who come here to turn tricks do it inside the truck cabs, or even outside in the woods over there. Less chance of being caught, and if the cops show up the trucker can always say he knows the woman. You might overhear something else, though, that could help us track the girls.” Evidence that would put Vasin and Ivanov behind bars for good, once they caught them. If Trina had anything to do with it, she’d see Vasin in cuffs right now. It still chafed that he’d sprung free.
“There are female truckers, too, you know.” Rob poked fun at her, and she smiled.
“I do know. And yes, I know that some of them indulge in the sexual market as well. We’ll just have to keep our eyes and ears open. And if we’re very lucky, we’ll get a break sooner rather than later.” She forced her gaze on the lot, away from Rob’s handsome face. They’d have their sexy time later. The anticipation simmered between them.
“Where did Carl go?” Rob strained his neck to see past the trucks and highway traffic that routed into the station.
“He said something about needing coffee.” She shooed away a yellow jacket, intent on the sugary treats that were now individually wrapped in plastic instead of being on open display.
“It’s been twenty minutes.” Rob looked agitated.
“Go check on him if you want. I’ll be fine.”
“Text me with anything odd.” His voice was stern as he stood up. “Do you want coffee or tea, a soda?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks, though.” She kept scouring the area in between the trailers.
“I’ll be back out in a minute.” He walked off, and Trina allowed herself the pleasure of taking in his form, his shape, his butt. This was so easy, falling into working with Rob again.
And she’d fallen in love with him as he was today.
As much as her heart sang at the thought of being with him as a lover and maybe more, her brain existed for a good reason. To keep her heart from breaking into an infinite number of shards again. Because no matter how much she wanted to believe Rob was here for the duration, for the hard times as well as good with his newfound son, she couldn’t shake the deeper worry that something awful would take him away again.
* * *
Rob stood in the bathroom at the sink and washed his hands. He’d had to force himself to stay here, wait for a chance to listen in on the truckers’ conversations. He was in a hurry to get back outside to the table, to the outreach post, to a chance to break the trade that had insinuated its way into what had to be the nicest slice of small-town America he’d ever had the chance to experience. He saw someone walk in and pretended to be examining his face.
Who are you kidding, man?
Aw, hell. It was all about Trina. Trina made everything more exciting, the colors of the Appalachian Mountains a deeper green, the contrast of postthunderstorm steam a smokier blue. He heard the sound of footsteps from the shower area and ducked his head. With a ball cap on he looked like any other trucker or fast-food customer.
“See anything yet?” The guttural Russian came from a corner of the wide room, past the stalls, near the showers. Rob froze. Vasin.
“Two of our girls are out there. I verified.”
How the hell had they verified?
“Stupid bitches don’t know enough to cover their ink.”
“They’re the two we delivered to the club? And we allow to live with the others in the apartment? And they’re trying to two-time it?” Rob heard the indignation at what ROC would consider a blasphemous act. They usually kept their working girls separate—a group for the club, and a group for the truck stop. And he’d bet a dozen women were living in one squalid apartment, the cheapest available. He wondered if the women had somehow gotten together, because it sounded like the criminals were being outsmarted.
“They forget about the tattoos that show they’re ours.”
“They are crazy to think we wouldn’t figure out what they’re doing.”
Ah. Tattoos. And Rob thought the Russian mobsters were the stupid ones, assuming no one would be able to understand them. They sounded angry, though, and that meant danger for the two girls who were no doubt trying to make extra money on their terms so that they could escape their life at the club. They weren’t the first to attempt it, from the reports he’d read.
“Do we grab them now, or at the club later?”
“Later. Monitor the situation and make sure we have names.”
“I don’t know their names. Not all of them.” Rob thought he knew that voice, too—
Minsky. There were two of them, then. Manageable. He wasted no time on wondering how Vasin’s number two henchman was here when he was supposed to be in jail. The intel reports had said Vasin was free but didn’t mention Minsky, so he’d probably never been caught the other day. Both men would recognize him, so Rob quickly entered a stall and shut the door. It cut against his instinct to linger in the restroom. He wanted to be out in the parking lot with Trina. Of course Trina could handle herself and any jerks who came along, but it didn’t stop his protectiveness from clanging alarm bells.
“They used to be good girls. Did their jobs. Got regular jobs later. Now everyone wants to save all the victims.” Minsky’s sneer when he said “victims” pretty much summed up the attitude of ROC toward any suffering on the part of their captives. For ROC, it was all about the bottom line. Cash trumped women trafficked for sex, as well as the fates of the inner cities where their smuggled weapons and drugs were sold. Anger simmered in Rob. Vasin’s operations had reached its venomous tentacles into Silver Valley. The town where the mother of his child had chosen to raise their son.
He couldn’t act yet, though. It was best to wait out these two ROC bad guys and catch them in the act of trying to kidnap the girls again, or as they assaulted them at the club, arrest them on the spot. As soon as he heard them depart through the shower room, he left the restroom and made a beeline for the exit. Trina was still out at their spot, and he wasn’t about to trust the other couple from church with her safety.
Rob had to know Trina was safe.
* * *
“How many women actually trust us enough to take some of the food?” Trina spoke to Binnie and Chuck, the seniors who were pulling the outreach shift with her and Rob. Carl had stopped by earlier to check on things but left the evening shift to his fellow church goers.
“They never come up to me if Binnie has to run into the restroom, or get a snack.” Chuck looked bewildered, as if he took it personally.
“That’s because they’re scared, sweetie.” Binnie patted her husband’s knee and lowered her voice for Trina. “He forgets his hearing aids and then shouts and it scares the truckers, let alone the ladies. It’s no wonder they won’t come up to him.”
Trina loved this couple, and she only knew them peripherally from Silver Valley Community Church. She liked to think it was how she’d be with her partner one day. Two peas in a pod.
“Where’s your young fellow?” Chuck leaned around his wife, speaking in a modulated tone as if to deny what Binnie had just said.
“He went in to get something to drink.” Trina noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see two young women approach the table. They walked with their heads down, eyes averted from Trina but definitely focused on the sandwiches in wax paper and the plastic-wrapped baked goods.
“Help yourselves. Our volunteers baked the goodies and the truck stop provides the sandwiches.” Trina spoke up.
They said nothing but each took a sandwich and a couple of cookies.
“Thanks.” The mumbled word was accented and Trina instinctively knew it was Russian.
“Are you thirsty? There’s cold soda and water here.” She opened the cover of the cooler that the truck stop filled with donated ice and beverages.
As the women bent over the cooler and reached in for their drink, Trina saw that one of them whose hair was pulled back in a high ponytail had a tattoo of what looked like a crescent moon. The symbol was just behind her left ear. The girl straightened quickly and met Trina’s eyes. Caught.
“Nice tat.” Trina kept it easy, not wanting to spook them. Drawing out a potential witness wasn’t easy and required the patience of someone far saintlier than her, but she had to give it a try.
“She likes my sickle.” The girl spoke in rapid-fire Russian to the other girl. A sickle. Of course. Not the moon. Was it a symbol of their native land for them? That didn’t make sense, not when Ukraine had split from the former Soviet Union. The girls had all been shipped in from Ukraine, if the Trail Hikers intelligence reports were accurate. ROC had branded them with these tattoos.
Trina played ignorant, tilted her head in interest. “It’s a crescent moon, right? I love anything to do with the sun, stars or moon.”
“I have one, too.” The second girl spoke better English and lifted the fall of her black hair to show Trina her tattoo. This time Trina made out the thin hammer that sliced through the sickle’s center. It had to be linked to ROC. There were so many tattoos with each factor of the criminal organization that she didn’t have a chance to know all of them.
“Are you sisters or best friends? Is that why you have the same tattoo?” Trina silently prayed they’d open up. She noticed that Binnie and Chuck were being quiet, watching her interaction.
Both girls laughed. Not the silly adolescent giggles they deserved to enjoy but harsh barks that only the jaded were capable of.
“Tell her we’re sisters. It’s okay.” Again, the quick Russian meant to be under the radar.
“Oxana and I are sisters, all right.” The young woman rolled her eyes. “I have to keep her out of trouble.”
“What’s your name? I’m Trina, by the way.”
“Ekaterina.”
“That’s so similar to my name, you know.” Trina saw they were losing interest as their eyes shifted past her and back over their shoulders toward the long row of trucks parked for either a short rest or the night. Trina imagined it didn’t matter how long any of the truckers were here as the women made their money and moved on to the next client. It was almost hard to believe something so dark and lurid went on in the truck cabins as the blaze of the summer sunset in Silver Valley lit up the sky with fuchsia and lavender streaks.
Keep them talking.
She opened her mouth to ask where they were from, in a very open, curious American way. She saw Oxana’s mouth drop open at the same time she dropped her food onto the gravel lot and screamed.
Trina twisted to see two burly men bearing down on the young women, their faces intent.
“Come now. No fight or you will regret it.” The taller of the two men spoke in Russian. Their faces were obscured by the brims of their hats, but Trina knew the voice of the man she’d failed to apprehend in the Poconos. Vasin.
The men were only strides from the girls. Trina was certain they were underage, and since they each had the tattoos that might indicate the gang who’d sold them, she wasn’t about to watch them be taken in by ROC.
“Call the police.” She spoke directly to Binnie and Chuck before she leaped over the table and ran after the group of four. The girls bolted for the safety of the parked trucks, which would give them a place to hide and stall their attackers. The men were fast for being so beefy, and they ran right behind the girls, their dark shoes spitting up gravel. Trina closed in on them, fists pumping. As the girls slid between two long trailers, the men heard Trina and stopped in their tracks. She saw them each reach for a weapon—one a pistol, the other a knife—as they turned around to face her.
Adrenaline pumped through her, and she sucked in deep breaths to stay steady, focused. As long as these brutes were looking at her, the girls had a fighting chance to get away.
* * *
Rob walked out to the outreach table, and when he saw Trina’s empty seat, Chuck and Binnie excitedly moving their arms, and Binnie with a cell phone to her ear, his stomach lurched.
“She went that way! Two men are chasing the girls!” Chuck’s septuagenarian voice was surprisingly strong.
“Have you called the police?”
“Yes. Go get her!” Chuck’s concern was palpable.
And more justified than he could imagine. Rob ran out into the lot that served as the truck rest stop and saw Trina’s slim figure standing approximately two hundred yards away, her legs in a wide stance and her arms up in front of her. She aimed her pistol at Vasin and Minsky, as Rob would expect. Trina was a warrior.
What made his mental warning alarm clamor like an air raid siren was the sight of each man holding a lethal weapon. Vasin held a Beretta in one hand, shouting something Rob couldn’t hear over the continuous purr of the parked trucks as they ran air-conditioning in the summer heat. Minsky held a blade, its surface reflecting the streetlamps that had begun to flicker in the waning light.
Rob had seconds to figure out how to save Trina’s life. Because while she’d had the Trail Hikers indoc, Trina was at heart a US Marshal. She wasn’t going to go home until she had these criminals in cuffs. She’d never cut her losses and run away.
The rumble of a Mack truck engine broke through his concentration, and he ran in front of an eighteen-wheeler preparing to leave the rest area. He waved his arms and flashed a badge—also that of a US Marshal, like Trina’s, as it made a great front for both of them as they worked as undercover Trail Hikers. The truck’s brakes engaged with a hydraulic groan and the cab lurched to a stop. Wasting no time, Rob reached up and opened the driver’s door. “US Marshal. I need your vehicle. Please get out.”
“What about my dog?” The female driver pointed to a large pit bull in the passenger seat.
“He friendly?”
“If I tell him to be.” She grinned.
“Best take him with you.” Rob didn’t want to put any civilians at risk, human or canine.
“You’re going for those jerks messing with that woman over there? Keep Rosie with you. In case you need backup.” The woman slid out of the seat and Rob jumped in.
“Clear the area, ma’am.” The woman backed away from the rig, her eyes wary as she probably just realized she’d given a supposed US Marshal her superb piece of machinery, her entire livelihood. As well as her dog.
Rob slammed the door shut and immediately shifted into gear, turning the wheel to be able to bear down on the trio of armed adversaries. “Hang on, Rosie.” The dog let out an enthusiastic bark from the passenger seat.
His hands gripped the wheel and he drove straight ahead, picking up speed but retaining control. But no matter how controlled, how well executed, the next several seconds were, he couldn’t escape the reality of what was at stake. One wrong move and Trina would be dead.
* * *
Trina heard the motor approach and didn’t flinch. She needed only a split second, maybe one full heartbeat, of distraction on the part of these losers. The full beam of headlights hit the eyes of the guy holding the knife, and when he squinted she quickly kicked the knife out of his hand. He swore in Russian, bent over and cradling the hand she’d made contact with. She turned and aimed her weapon at Vasin.
“Drop your weapon or you’re both dead.” She’d take out Vasin first, since he still held his pistol, but she was prepared to shoot his accomplice, too, if need be.
Vasin grinned malevolently before he turned and took off between the rows of distribution trucks. Trina couldn’t risk a shot with so many civilians around and the possibility of a bullet ricocheting into a trailer or worse, an occupied cab. The majority of the cabs were sleepers, and the drivers slept on bunks in the back. Vasin knew this, of course. She’d have to secure the knife dude and then go after Vasin.
“Stand up. Turn around.” The thug grunted at her but didn’t move from his hunched position. Familiar steps on the gravel behind her were followed by a sense of security she’d never experienced once she saw their source.
Rob.
“You heard her. Turn around and put your hands up. I will shoot.”
The thug lifted his arms and turned. Trina went cuffed him. He swore in Russian that she was hurting him.
“Stop being so melodramatic.” She pushed him toward the front of the lot, away from the trucks.
“That’s right, Minsky. Get ready to dish it all to the cops. As you can see, Vasin didn’t hang around to save you, did he?” Rob said in Russian.
The high pitch of sirens filled the night as several SVPD vehicles arrived on scene, followed by an ambulance.
She looked at Rob. “I had Binnie and Chuck call them in.” She wished they’d be able to get all the girls out of the club, off the streets, safe from the horrors of a trafficked life. But that was a job, on a more regular basis, for other law enforcement agency like FBI and ICE. Trina was grateful to help even two of the girls. She secretly hoped she’d be asked to help rescue more of the women, though. Maybe TH would call her to.
“Good work. You want to read him his rights?”
“No.” She nodded at a Silver Valley PD officer who approached. “Hey, Nika. I’ve got this guy cuffed, and he needs his rights read.”
“Sure thing, Trina.” Trina had worked with Officer Nika Pasczenko on a few cases, and they’d hit it off. Nika had promised to take her and Jake kayaking now that Trina lived in Silver Valley.
She walked over to Rob, who was briefing Chief Todd. The chief assessed her with sharp eyes. “You okay, Marshal Lopez?”
“Yes, thanks. I appreciate your officers coming in and cleaning up. There’s still one on the loose, and I have no idea where the girls went. I’m going to search the trailer lot now.”
Colt nodded. He was fully briefed on all TH ops in the area that could involve his department, so he didn’t ask any questions. He knew the deal—all TH ops were need-to-know only. And a lot of his officers had no idea about the Trail Hikers’ existence, so it wasn’t something they could discuss in such a public place.
“You’ll get it done, you two.” As the chief walked away, Trina looked at Rob. And it hit her that she would do whatever it took to keep him here with her. Behind her. Having her back.
Even risk her heart. Again.
“We’re going to need to split up.” At his shocked expression, she quickly added, “No, not us. I mean break the surveillance of the lot up amongst all of the LEA here, including us.”
“Right.” Relief registered on his face before he said more. “As much as I hate it, you’re correct. I’ll stay out here, in the truck I just drove. I’m sure the owner won’t mind if I tell her it’s for everyone’s safety. You head toward the rear of the lot. We’ll have a better chance if we can see two levels of activity.” Rob’s response reassured her. Everything about him, about them as a couple, as Jake’s parents, made sense to her.
“What?” Rob must have seen what was in her heart.
“I love you, Rob.”
“I know. I love you, too.” He pulled her against him at the same moment she lunged for him. The kiss was hard and fast, the promise of their future in the warmth of his lips on hers. He lifted his head a half inch. “Now let’s go get the bad guy.”
When he let her go he swatted her butt, and Trina smiled.
They’d survive this and they’d go back home. Together.
* * *
Trina waited in the field beyond the paved lot, no more than a hundred feet from where the nearest trailer rested. It seemed peaceful, the hum of the engines to support the electrical systems in the truck cabs, the vast majority of which were privately owned and came complete with bunks behind the seats, where the truckers took their overnights. In the ninety-degree night, air-conditioning was a must. It was a safety precaution, too, as the truckers had to keep their windows up and doors locked while they slept. Many had dogs, like the woman Rob had borrowed the truck from. That had been brilliant on his part. Trina wondered if she would have thought that quickly. She was a well-trained and experienced marshal, but still a newbie as far as the Trail Hikers went.
She’d grabbed a pair of night-vision goggles from Nika and used them to check underneath the trailers, between the large truck tires. A slight movement caught her attention, near a large fuel trailer. The cylindrical carrier had pulled in within the last few minutes and parked on the far edge of the lot, nearest to her. As she watched, the driver seemed to drop from view. One second he’d been sitting behind the wheel of his cab; the next the spot looked vacant. As she watched, her heart hammered in her chest; her instincts told her to run to the truck and see what was going on. Her training made her wait. It paid off when she identified the silhouette of one woman, and then another, as they climbed into the truck cab. They each disappeared, and one more figure appeared in the driver’s seat.
Vasin.
Trina spoke to Rob on her headset, standard gear that she carried in a small fanny pack, as she ran in, weapon drawn. “It’s him. He’s got the two girls who stopped for food in the oil tanker on the far side of the parking lot. I think he may have shot the driver.”
“Do not go in alone. I’m driving around.” She saw the headlights of the truck Rob drove in the distance, saw the truck move toward her.
“I’ll wait for you.” She ran to the back of the oil carrier, careful to stay low and out of the reflection of the rearview mirrors. To her dismay the truck began to move.
No, no, no! She ran faster, and calculated how many tires she’d have to blow out to stop it. Impossible.
The truck increased speed too quickly. Vasin was getting the hell out. No way was Trina going to let him get away with this. The girls had to be scared out of their minds. They couldn’t defend themselves, not against Vasin’s physicality or his weapon.
Vasin put the vehicle into the wide turn it needed to leave the truck stop and head out onto the main highway. Trina didn’t think but instead relied on pure instinct. She shoved her weapon into its holster as she ran. She closed the distance between herself and the back of the tanker, willing her legs to move faster, faster. As she came within an arm’s reach, she tried to grab for the ladder that went to the top of the round end, but the truck was picking up speed, widening the distance between rescuing the girls and their certain death.
A mental image of what Vasin would do to the girls flashed in front of her, and she dug deep, reached for the last of her reserves.
Instead of putting her arm out to catch the truck, she jumped. Her palms slammed against the steel rung and instinctively gripped, holding her to the back of the rapidly accelerating truck. Trina couldn’t risk looking over her shoulder to see if Rob knew what was happening. Her entire mission was to get to the truck’s cab and take out Vasin before he hurt the girls.
* * *
Rob thought if hearts could rupture, his would at the sight of Trina hanging on to the back of the fuel tank, her body no more that a third the height of the trailer. He worked his truck’s gears, grateful that Rosie had gone with her owner this time. His gut told him this was going to get ugly.
“Trina, hang on. Do not climb that tanker.”
“Too. Late.” He heard her breathing deepen as he trailed behind Vasin and saw her ascend the narrow ladder. There were overpasses and bridges and umpteen other ways she could be killed while traversing the fuel tanker. And he was powerless to stop her.
“Talk to me, babe.” He had to hear what she was thinking.
“I’ll get him to stop. If you take him out, I can drive the truck.” She’d been trained to operate heavy machinery and trucks just as he had. He’d learned a lot of it in the SEALs and knew that Trail Hikers covered it, too.
“It’s too dangerous to fire a weapon. The fuel.”
“Gas. I just read the label on the side.” Her voice was strong, but the wind interfered with their comms. He had to strain to pick out her words.
“Get in the cab and stop him if you can, Trina.” Rob wanted to scream. No, not scream. He wanted to get Trina and take them far away. Where they could live safely with Jake. Nothing else mattered.
“Damn it!” He knew it was his primal resistance flaring, knew that he’d complete this mission to the best of his ability. But he didn’t know if he’d survive, or worse, if Trina would. He’d never stared into such desolation.
* * *
Trina made it up to the cabin. This was a fancy rig, complete with a sunroof over the sleeping compartment. She looked into the back of the cabin through the glass and saw Oxana and Ekaterina, huddled together. It wasn’t easy hanging on to the top of the cab. She preferred the ladder. At least the rungs were sturdy. The slippery top of the cab was nothing but treacherous. But this was also the only way she’d save them.
She pounded on the window twice and the girls looked up, their faces full of fear. A shot rang out and she realized that Vasin had heard her, too. He was shooting at her from the driver’s-side window. No concern about the probability of nine thousand gallons of liquid natural gas behind him. Trina had to get the girls out. She clung to the top of the cab, flattening herself against it as they neared another overpass. The three they’d already cleared had been so close, so tight a fit that she’d thought she was dead. This was no different. She looked up after her ears popped from the harrowing passage and saw where Vasin was headed. Silver Valley View Road.
* * *
Vasin turned the gas rig onto the four-lane country route, and Rob knew it was now or never. He had to draw alongside the tanker or he’d never catch up in time to make a difference. The road had wide enough shoulders for other vehicles to use as needed. Thankfully it looked clear for the next mile or so.
It was all he’d need. He engaged his engine full throttle and eased into the left lane. Vasin immediately tried to edge him off the road, but Rob’s truck was more maneuverable that the huge can of gas. Within thirty seconds he was parallel with Vasin’s cab, and was rewarded by a bullet shattering his passenger-side window.
Rob had ducked, anticipating the shot. When he risked another look, Vasin appeared to be distracted, and the criminal fired a shot into the air. Trying to get to Trina. Rob kept one eye on the road and one on Vasin. He had to keep his truck in the right position. He had to trust Trina that she’d paid attention during the moving vehicle portion of her Trail Hikers training, when she learned how to keep her balance while atop a truck going sixty miles an hour. Except at Trail Hikers they never practiced with trucks going faster than thirty miles an hour.
* * *
Trina saw Rob’s cab, and her training kicked in. All she had to do was get the girls over to his truck. They’d hang on until he stopped the trailer. She motioned at them through the window to break the glass and follow her, glad that at least she didn’t have to worry about overpasses on the country road. But the frequent hills made keeping her balance difficult.
Oxana held up a fire extinguisher. Good girl. Trina crawled back six inches and held her breath. It took three hits but the sunroof shattered, the tempered glass disintegrating into clear shards that smarted as they whipped against her face. She waited for Vasin to shoot, but heard nothing. Reaching down, her hand was immediately grasped by one of the girls and she pulled, then up came Oxana.
“Stay flat, right here,” Trina shouted as she moved forward again and reached down. Ekaterina followed Oxana’s example and was flat on the cab in seconds.
“You have to jump onto the other truck.” Both girls looked at her like she spoke the gospel truth. It was the shock and fear. Pure survival mode.
Trina lifted her head and then crawled backward until she could reach the ladder in the back of the cab. Standing between the cab and fuel tank, she grasped Oxana’s ankle and squeezed. Rob was next to them, far enough back that Vasin couldn’t get off a good shot with his weapon, but close enough to the tanker that they could drop onto his cab.
Trina was loath to leave the girls alone and exposed on the moving truck, but there was no other way. She’d have to catch them once on Rob’s truck. Trina saw the top of the cab, knew that Rob was in it. All she had to do was trust.
She jumped.
* * *
Rob heard the first thud on the cab’s roof and hit the ceiling with his fist. Yes! Trina had made it. He listened for the next two thuds, which came surprisingly quickly, one after another. He immediately slowed the truck down, praying all three women would hang on.
“We’re all here.” Trina’s shout rang through his headset.
“It’s just another couple of minutes, ladies.” The truck shuddered and shimmied on the weathered road as it slowed down. He watched Vasin continue to drive off and figured the crook was going to take the truck as far as he could as a means of escape. Rob would call it in to TH as soon as he stopped his truck. His speedometer read thirty miles per hour, falling.
“Rob! Trouble!” Trina’s scream broke through his training protocol. He looked out at the road and saw that the tanker had made a U-turn at the only place wide enough in three counties to do so, a median pull-off area. Vasin was headed back straight toward them. Rob reached for his weapon, but he’d never get a good shot off, not from inside the cab.
They were all dead. Vasin was going to run right over them, obviously not caring if he died along with them. It was a matter of honor to ROC. The truck finally came to a halt, and Rob put it in Reverse. The two Ukrainian girls climbed down from the top of the cab and got in via his passenger door.
“Ladies, you need to make a run for it. Now!” The girls didn’t argue but slid out of the truck. There were plenty of trees to hide behind until backup arrived.
“Trina, come down. I’m backing up. There’s no time!”
“Rob, stop the truck. I’ve got the perfect shot from here.”
“Damn it, Trina, get down.” He put the engine on idle and opened his door. If she wouldn’t listen, he’d go get her himself. Before he got a foot on the running board, he heard the sound of Trina’s gun firing. Two seconds later the night lit up with a light brighter than Fourth of July fireworks as the propane truck Vasin drove exploded.
* * *
“You okay, Trina?” It had been an hour since Vasin’s fiery death and there hadn’t been time to check in with each other until now.
“What?” She looked at him like she’d seen her life pass in front of her as she watched EMTs tend to the girls. They’d already checked Trina out and save for a few bruises from climbing onto a moving fuel truck, she was fine.
Rob wrapped his arm around her shoulders, willing his body heat into her. “Come here, babe.” Maybe she needed to sit down. Shock could affect a law enforcement agent at any time, no matter their level of experience. He lifted her chin with his finger and peered into her eyes. Under the glare of emergency spotlights, her pupils were dilated, but no more than would be expected.
She shook him off. “I’m fine. Thanks, by the way, for the truck bit—you got me out of an awfully tough spot.”
“You did it on your own.” As she always did.
“No. Rob, this time I was in a pickle, really. Did you see how he was driving it?” She nodded to where Vasin had breathed his last breath. The charred frame of the rig was still on fire, the Silver Valley Fire Department smothering it with foam.
“If one of his shots had ricocheted and hit his tanker before I got the girls away, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“ It’s okay, Trina. You’re safe, and you saved the girls. Vasin got what he deserved.”
“I never like seeing someone die, no matter how awful or downright evil they are. And for the record, Rob? We saved the girls. Did you know they belonged to him, to ROC?”
“Yes.” He told her what he knew about the tats, and what he’d overheard in the bathroom.
Her eyes widened. “Rob, both of the girls have tattoos behind her left ear. It looks like a crescent moon to the untrained eye, but I heard them say in Russian that it was a sickle. When you look really closely the line of the hammer is there—it has to be what you overheard. It must be the symbol of Ivanov’s girls.”
He brought her in for a hug. “You can put it in your after-action report. All I care about is that you’re alive, and my son’s safe from a very bad man. We also have two young women we know will have a chance at true freedom, if they want it.” Trina knew the women would be offered witness protection if they wanted.
Trina’s phone vibrated with a text from SVPD.
“It’s SVPD. They’ve verified that the truck driver is dead. Vasin isn’t ever going to hurt another girl or woman.” She looked up at him. “But Ivanov is still out there, Rob. He could come after us, or punish the other girls as an example.”
“Not likely. ROC will lie low, at least for a while. Ivanov doesn’t even get briefed on all of the awful things his subordinates do. It’s unlikely Vasin ever told him about us, period. It would only make Vasin look bad.”
“I’d say Vasin had a lot more power than we thought, then.”
“That’s not our problem any longer, Marshal Lopez. We solved our part of the case.”
She looked bemused. “My first Trail Hikers op. Our first one together since the Navy. But Ivanov will be back, we know this. We’ll have to fight him again, Rob.”
“Let’s celebrate completing our first TH op together. We can’t control what happens next with ROC. No one can.”
“We can control what we do together, Rob.”
He couldn’t wait any longer—he kissed her. It was in the middle of a truck stop, in front of first responders and the church volunteers, but Rob only cared about Trina’s reaction. Which was getting as heated as his.
Trina pulled back enough to meet his gaze. “It’s our beginning.”
“Yes.” He’d never let her go again.
* * *
Three days later, Rob knocked on Trina’s front door. His heart pounded in his chest as if this were his first undercover op. He laughed nervously at his unintentional joke. This was indeed an uncover op—it was time to tell Jake who he was.
He heard the sound of Renegade’s barks followed by scampering feet, the sound he’d memorized that first night he’d met his son. The door flew open and revealed the boy who’d cemented a permanent place in Rob’s soul since the minute Trina had revealed he was a father.
“Rob!” Rob knelt down and the little boy launched himself at Rob, wrapping his arms around Rob’s neck in what was now a familiar gesture.
“Hey, Jake!” He hugged his son back, savoring how good it felt to be able to receive love as much as give it.
“Hi, handsome.” Trina was behind Jake and Rob stood, lifting Jake with him. He leaned over and gave her a warm, lingering kiss.
“Hi, yourself.”
“Ick.” Jake’s observation made all three laugh.
“Trina, do you mind if Jake and I have a man-to-man conversation? You can be there, but it’s just going to be us guys talking.” He watched his son as he spoke. He and Trina had already agreed that this was the time and place to tell Jake the truth.
“Sure thing. How about the backyard?”
“Yeah!” Jake wiggled out of his arms and raced through the house, heading for the back door. Renegade followed him, tail wagging.
Trina hugged him tight. “You’ve got this, Rob.”
“Thanks.” He wanted to stay in her arms forever, and he would, but first things first.
Trina stayed on the back porch, where she sat on the steps holding Renegade as Rob walked toward the huge oak tree where Jake swung on his tire.
“Do you want to try it, Rob?”
Rob shook his head. “Not now. I need to talk to you about something, first.” He knelt next to the swing.
“Okay.” Jake stopped swinging and stared intently at Rob.
Rob swallowed. “Jake, do you know how your mom told you your dad was in the Navy and did a lot of military missions?”
Jake nodded, never taking his wide eyes off of Rob. Rob didn’t think he’d ever get used to his son staring at him like this, as if everything he said was the Gospel.
“Mom said my dad wished he could be here.”
“Well, that’s just it, Jake. I am here. I’m your dad.”
Rob started to go on, to tell Jake all that he’d memorized to include how different circumstances had kept them apart. But his son had a different take on things.
“You mean you want to be my dad? I know that you love my mom.”
Rob laughed. “You do?”
Jake nodded.
“Yes, I want to be your dad, Jake, but in fact, I am your dad. I’m the Navy guy your mom told you about.”
“You’re the hero?” Jake’s eyes grew even wider.
“I’m not a hero, Jake.”
But Jake didn’t hear him as he slid through the tire to stand next to Rob. “You’re my hero, Rob.”
“You can call me Dad, if you’d like.”
“Is Daddy okay for now? And Dad, too?”
Rob couldn’t speak past the lump in his throat so he nodded and opened his arms to his son.
“Daddy or Dad, whichever you want, son.” As he hugged him he felt hands on his shoulders. Trina knelt next to him, joining their embrace. She kissed Jake on the cheek.
“Mommy, why are you crying?”
“I’m happy. These are tears of joy, Jake.”
When she sought his gaze he saw the tears streaming down her cheeks. Rob still couldn’t find words, never having faced so much love in his lifetime. Trina smiled. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.”
Jake patted both of their cheeks with his hands. “Guess what, guys? I mean, Mommy and Daddy.” He giggled. “This is our first family hug!”
“Yes, it is.” Trina’s voice was soft, her eyes luminous. Rob knew he must look the same. Besotted.
“So are you going to get married or what?”
Trina looked at him and Rob found his words. “If your mom will have me. But that’s an adult conversation that your mom and I will have later, Jake.”
“Fine. But Mom, please say yes.”
Renegade jumped up and started licking Rob’s face, as if showing his agreement to the plan. Rob fell backward, dragging his family and dog with him. Amidst the barks and laughter, Rob knew he’d finally found his forever family.