The Reaper (The Phoenix Chronicles Book 2) Read online

  “What about him?”

  Morgan reloaded her weapon. “He died in a single-vehicle accident about a month ago.”

  “Think it wasn’t such an accident?” Alex asked.

  Morgan shrugged. “Hard to say anything definitively there, but it sure is suspicious given the fact that the team he was working with at the border when he arrested Lorado consisted of Langston and Guidry and—wait for it—Travis Taylor.”

  “So you think Taylor was behind all this?” Hawk asked.

  Morgan shrugged. “At this point, we don’t much more than what I just told you. But he’s certainly the key to figuring this thing out, one way or another. He’s either going to be targeted or was the one making sure some secrets related to Diana Lorado stay buried.”

  “So, what do you want us to do about this?” Hawk asked.

  “I want you to track down Travis Taylor,” Morgan said. “Find out what he knows and find out if he thinks anyone would want him dead. If he’s reluctant to talk, that might wake him up. Or figure out if you think he’s the one doing all the killing. Either way, this investigation hinges on him.”

  Hawk sent the target back out. He put on his safety glasses and fired away. His shots formed the outline of a heart in the center of the target’s chest.

  “Impressive,” Morgan said as she peered at the target through her binoculars.

  “I’m not trying to impress anyone,” Hawk said. “I only care about the truth getting out.”

  “Consider that mission accomplished,” Morgan said. “Well, that is if you can get Travis Taylor to talk.”

  “Where is he?” Alex asked.

  “He’s a prolific nomad, bouncing around from community to community, state to state,” Morgan said. “Currently, he’s working on a small ranch in Montana.”

  “How convenient,” Hawk said as he grabbed his target.

  “Would you look at that?” Alex said. “I think you painted a heart on that poor sap.”

  Hawk chuckled. “He never had a chance. Might as well give the people at his funeral something to talk about.”

  “You’re naughty,” Morgan said. “Better be glad I like you.”

  “What’s not to like?” Hawk asked. “You know I’m the perfect agent.”

  “In your dreams,” Alex said. “That designation would fall to me.”

  She drew her weapon and fired on her target, leaving it with an “A” on the chest. When she brought the target back, Hawk laughed.

  “Poor Hester Prynne,” he said.

  “That’s actually the man who imprisoned her,” Alex said.

  Morgan chuckled. “Reverend Wilson, it is. Good to see competition is alive and well, even in a marriage.”

  “Especially in a marriage,” Alex said. “You think I’m going to let him claim a title unchallenged?”

  Hawk unclipped his target and handed it to Alex. “You know I love you.”

  “If you think I’m impressed by your shooting today, you’re sorely mistaken,” Alex said.

  “Okay,” Morgan said. “We need an independent authority to rule on this situation. But in the meantime, are you both okay with returning to Montana?”

  “Of course,” Alex said. “Right?”

  “Without a doubt,” Hawk said. “We’ll track down Travis Taylor for you and find out what’s really going on here.”

  “Good,” Morgan said as she pressed a button that sent her target to the back wall. She drew her weapon and fired six shots, forming a smiley face around the heart.

  “Impressive,” Alex said.

  “I aim to please,” Morgan said with a wink.

  Hawk used his binoculars to inspect the target area. “Looks like you win, Director.”

  “Was there ever any doubt?” she asked.

  “Let’s get back to the airport,” Hawk said. “Our boss is just trying to embarrass us.”

  Alex grinned. “Good thing we discussed the importance of not embarrassing her before we left the office.”

  Hawk laughed. “Yes, a very good thing.”

  Morgan scowled. “I don’t believe any of this.”

  “Suit yourself,” Alex said. “We don’t tell any lies.”

  Hawk glanced at his watch. “If we’re going to get back to LAX tonight, we need to get a move on.”

  Morgan exhaled and shook her head. “I know this is a cop-out.”

  “If we stayed here the whole time, we’d beat you,” Alex said.

  “Liars,” Morgan said. “I don’t believe a word of what you’re saying.”

  “Suit yourself,” Hawk said. “You’re going to suffer for it later, one way or another.”

  “Just go catch Travis Taylor,” Morgan said. “I’ll be willing to overlook all of this if you can apprehend him.”

  Hawk pointed at Morgan. “I’m not making any promises, but we’ll do our best.”

  “Just find him,” Morgan said.

  * * *

  REAPER GLANCED at his phone as it rang. He picked it up.

  “Yeah,” he answered.

  “Change of plans,” the man on the other line said. “I need you to head to Montana.”

  “Did you get a lead on Travis Taylor?” Reaper asked.

  “No, but Brady Hawk did. Just get to the Bozeman airport before he does—and follow him.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Reaper said before hanging up.

  He put on his sunglasses and drove straight toward the Seattle airport. He had a plane to catch.

  CHAPTER 25

  Los Angeles

  HAWK AND ALEX SHUFFLED down the aisle of their plane later that afternoon as they boarded at LAX. The flight attendant in the aisle smiled at Hawk and nodded toward the overhead compartment.

  “You need help getting that up there?” she asked.

  Alex rolled her eyes. “I think he can manage.”

  Hawk grinned as he hoisted his bag overhead and jammed it into place. “I’ve got it.”

  The two agents sat down in their seats. Hawk was smiling, while Alex seemed irked by the exchange.

  “I can’t wait to see John Daniel,” she said.

  “Me either,” Hawk said. “It’s been far too long. Have your aunt and uncle said anything?”

  “Nothing so far,” she said. “But what did you expect? He’s a perfect angel.”

  Hawk laughed. “That boy has you wrapped around his finger. We’ve got to do something about that before he gets much older.”

  “Are you jealous?”

  “Maybe. What’s it to you?”

  Alex crossed her arms and exhaled. “You’ll see soon enough.”

  “I’m not sure I like this,” Hawk said.

  “Just give it some time. I’m sure you’ll come around.”

  Hawk buckled his seatbelt and then settled in for the flight home. According to the flight details sent to his phone by the airline, they’d be in the air approximately two and a half hours. It wasn’t that long all things considered, but Alex wasn’t happy about it.

  “We have to wait this long to see John Daniel?” she asked, pointing at the arrival time.

  “It could be worse,” Hawk said. “We could walk home.”

  “That’s ridiculous and you know it,” she said.

  “What?” Hawk said, trying to lighten the load. “I’m just trying to be encouraging. Did you find something I said that contradicts what we’ve learned so far?”

  “Not really,” Alex said. “I just don’t like it.”

  They settled into their seats and latched their belts. The ride from LAX to Bozeman was rather uneventful, save a few pockets of disturbance that rattled their peaceful trip. Neither of them said much, Hawk absorbed in a Tom Clancy novel, while Alex perused a history magazine.

  “I guess it could be worse,” Hawk said after finally putting down the book.

  “Yeah,” Alex said, nodding her head. “We could be in prison.”

  “Thank God we’re not,” Hawk said. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

  “I want u
s to figure out a way to help John Daniel,” Morgan said. “It’s obvious at this point that he’s in dire need of some assistance.”

  “And what do you plan to do about it?” Hawk asked.

  “At this point, I’m not sure,” she said with a shrug. “I just want to get him under control.”

  Hawk grinned wryly. “I’ve got just got the plan for that.”

  “Care to fill me in?” Alex asked.

  “Wait until we’re on the ground,” he said. “I’d hate for anyone to intercept our conversations while we’re still in the air.”

  * * *

  WHEN THE TIRES barked upon striking the tarmac in Bozeman, Hawk and Alex tried not to resist the urge to sprint toward the exit. They both wanted to see John Daniel after being away from him for a little over a week.

  Once they deplaned, they hustled through the long corridor toward baggage claim. They found their son asleep in his pajamas, cradled by Alex’s uncle, Victor, who’d driven over from Billings where he and his wife had been caring for John Daniel.

  “Does this mean we can’t talk to him?” Hawk asked Victor.

  “I wouldn’t advise it,” he said.

  “Showing that kind of restraint might be the most difficult thing I’ve had to do in the past month,” Hawk said as he took John Daniel from Victor in a hushed tone. “But I won’t say a word.”

  “I wouldn’t complain if you woke him up,” Alex said, kissing John Daniel on the cheek.

  He remained collapsed in a heap in Hawk’s arms. “He’s just too peaceful.”

  She sighed. “I’ll try to resist too.”

  Victor led them toward their car, while Hawk lagged behind.

  He stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

  “What is it?” Alex asked.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” he said.

  He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched.

  CHAPTER 26

  45°49’52.3”N 112°06’16.0”W

  TRAVIS TAYLOR LEANED back on a boulder along the banks of the Jefferson River and watched the flames dance inside the campfire circle. He glanced skyward at the sea of stars stretching to the edge of the horizon and took a deep breath.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Cam Walton asked as he punched Taylor’s arm and looked up.

  “Makes you realize how insignificant we are in the universe,” Taylor said.

  “I don’t know about that,” Walton said, stroking his weathered face. “I believe we’re all significant in some way or another—but we do have a tendency to overstate our significance.”

  Taylor grunted and shook his head. “I wish that was true for me. I can’t get small enough in this great big world.”

  Walton pulled out his pipe and packed it with tobacco before igniting it. “Tell me, Taylor, what are you running from?”

  Taylor scowled. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you wouldn’t be out here driving cattle if you were a normal adjusted person,” Walton said before releasing a smoke ring from his mouth. “This life is for drifters and runners. And you ain’t like any drifter I’ve ever met. So, the only logical conclusion I can make is that you’re running from something.”

  “I’m neither one,” Taylor said.

  Walton coughed, choking on the smoke. He patted his chest and gave Taylor a sideways glance. “In that case, enlighten me. What’s this third type of person who likes to ride horses for days on end and sleep on rocky ground while going to bed hungry? I mean, not many people willingly wanna scrape the bottom of a cast iron skillet to try and get enough calories for the day.”

  Taylor shrugged. “I will admit the hunger does get to me out here from time to time, but I’m neither a drifter nor a runner.”

  “Then what are you, my friend?”

  “I’m an adventure seeker,” Taylor said. “I want to see as much of this beautiful planet before my time is up.”

  “I call bullshit,” Walton said before releasing another ring of smoke. “There are far better ways to see the world than working for peanuts while chapping your ass for days on end. So, you gonna tell me which one you are? A drifter or a runner?”

  “Maybe I’m just a horse lover, Walton. Is that too hard to accept?”

  “You’re not. It couldn’t be any more obvious than if it was tattooed on your face.”

  Taylor picked up a stray twig and tossed it into the fire. “What does it matter anyway?”

  “Because I want to be prepared for when you leave. A drifter will leave when it suits him, but a runner will leave when trouble comes calling. But more than anything, I don’t appreciate being left high and dry.”

  “Well, Sage One, which one do you think I am?”

  “I think you’re a runner,” Walton said. “Something happened to you that you just can’t deal with, can you?”

  Taylor shook his head. “You really think you can gather all that from spending a few weeks with me out on the open range?”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “It felt more like a statement.”

  Walton puffed on his pipe and squinted. “What are you running from?”

  “If you don’t stop asking me about this nonsense, the answer will be you,” Taylor said before he stood up and sauntered over to his sleeping bag.

  “Suit yourself, but you can’t outrun your past. It’ll always catch up with you.”

  Taylor took his boots off and climbed inside his bag. He’d heard enough from the old man for one night, even if he was right.

  As the fire died down, Taylor laid still, his mind still mulling over his conversation with Walton. All that running Taylor had done couldn’t help him undo the past. The betrayal by his own military was what smarted the most. He watched his brothers in arms die while the government refused to lift a finger. Most nights when Taylor was trying to go to sleep, he wished he was one of the ones who didn’t make it out alive. Survivor’s guilt was a heavy burden to bear.

  So was the guilt of revenge.

  Momentarily fulfilling yet wholly unsatisfying, Taylor’s response to how he’d been treated left him anxious and worried. Some days, he wanted to face what he’d done and welcome the consequences. Other days, he contemplated taking the short route out and ending it all. But he couldn’t bring himself to do either one. The shame would be worse than the guilt. And deep down, Taylor knew he could never end his own life. As twisted as it seemed, he held out hope for redemption, even if life-long scorn and contempt was the likelier climax of his life.

  In the meantime, Taylor felt trapped, a prisoner of his own hell—one he helped design and cultivate with a litany of poor decisions. And there was no key. He needed someone to spring him as well as a full pardon. Yet, he knew deep down that would never happen.

  He closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep. He’d get on the treadmill in the morning and do it all over again.

  CHAPTER 27

  Jefferson Island, Montana

  HAWK TUGGED ON Dusty’s bridle, urging him out of the horse trailer behind the parking lot of the Gas ’n Go service station. While Hawk had ridden his horse plenty around the property on his ranch, he’d never taken Dusty to a location this far away. Whether it was the unfamiliar spot or the fact that he’d just ridden a couple of hours without a break, Dusty dug his heels in, resisting Hawk’s gentle coaxing.

  An elderly man in a pickup truck slowed down and scowled as he looked at Hawk and Dusty.

  “Need any help there, fella?” the man asked.

  Hawk nodded. “What gave it away?”

  The old man laughed and climbed out of his truck. “You looked like you were on the verge of getting a hernia, yanking that horse around like that.”

  Hawk smiled. “So are you like the local whisperer?”

  “Judge for yourself,” the man said as he offered his hand. “Bronco Fortson.”

  “Jet Gray,” Hawk said, using his favorite alias.

  “With names like ours, we should’ve played football together instead of draggi
ng horses around.”

  “Toughness is a state of mind,” Hawk said. “It’s not bestowed upon someone with a strong name.”

  Bronco cocked his head and eyed Hawk. “You been hanging out on the reservation?”

  “Why do you ask that?”

  “You’re dishing out chieftain wisdom faster than an antelope can outrun a pack of hungry wolves.”

  “I’ll defer to your analogy since it’s probably something you’ve witnessed,” Hawk said.

  “Many times,” Bronco said as he rubbed the horse’s nose. “Now, let’s see if we can get—”

  “Dusty,” Hawk said.

  “—Dusty moving again. What do you say?”

  Bronco cozied up next to Dusty’s ear and stroked his nose. He spoke firmly yet gently to the animal for a few seconds. Before Hawk knew it, Dusty was trotting in a circle around Bronco.

  Hawk scratched his head. “How did you do that?”

  “Order my DVD course or stream it like all the kids are doing these days,” Bronco said. “Just search my name on the interwebs and you’ll find me.”

  Bronco shuffled back to his truck and climbed inside. “Good luck wherever you’re going, son. Because out here, you’re gonna need it.”

  The truck rumbled away, leaving Hawk along with his horse. After closing up the trailer and locking his truck, Hawk put his leg into the left stirrup and hoisted himself onto Dusty’s back. The horse whinnied and then raised back a bit before putting all four hoofs on the ground.

  Hawk clicked his tongue and snapped the reins, urging Dusty forward. After putting up a brief resistance, he started toward the open gate.

  * * *

  HAWK MEANDERED ALONG the Jefferson River until he saw the cattle drive ahead of him. He rode up next to one of the men and asked for Walton. A few minutes later, Hawk maneuvered his way next to the team leader.

  “Hello, sir,” Hawk said. “I know I’m a late addition, but I have signed papers here from your boss.”

  Walton took the documents and scanned them as they rode along. “Welcome to the team, Jet.”

  “Can you tell me who I’m gonna be working with?” Hawk asked.

  Walton rattled off the names of four of the men. He paused and looked at Travis Taylor. “That’s Taylor, but you might want to steer clear of him.”