Page 22 of Fighting for Brielle
Letting out her breath, she took a quick shower and dressed in a pair of cotton sleep shorts and tank top. Grabbing her cell phone and a bottle of water, she stepped outside onto her deck. A full moon shone high in the sky, reflecting its brilliance on the Pacific. Brielle admired the view for a moment before she glanced at her phone and saw that she’d missed a call from Brendan. Quickly, she pressed the CALL icon and waited for him to answer.
“Hey, Bri. I’m glad you returned my call. It’s been awhile.”
“Whose fault is that?” Brielle shot back. “What’s going on with you? We used to be close. Now, you hardly speak to any of us, and you never visit during the holidays. Missing last Christmas really hurt Mom, though she wouldn’t admit it.”
“We’re not kids anymore. Our lives are filled with duties and responsibilities.” Brendan paused. “Besides, you’re not named after a dead man. Jesus.Brendan Stewart.Mom actually used his last name as my middle name. It’s a curse. That’s how I feel. Cursed.”
Brielle shook her head in disbelief. “It’s not a curse. It’s a blessing. Brendan Stewart loved Mom from the moment he met her when they were freshmen in high school. He was her champion then, and he protected her and loved her even though he either knew or suspected that a part of her heart belonged to Dad. It’s a blessing,” she repeated. “The Triple B will be transferred to you upon Mom’s death. It’s what Brendan would have wanted. And let’s not forget that Trey is named after Mom’s deceased brother. He doesn’t complain about it.”
Chastised, Brendan deftly changed the subject. “Speaking of Trey, I just spent the night with him and his family. We had a great visit.”
“You did? Well, then, I’m glad. When are you going home to see Mom and Dad?” she demanded.
“I don’t know. Madam Secretary is dealing with several irons in the fire right now and needs me. I can’t get away anytime soon.”
Brielle thought he was just making excuses but refrained from challenging him, fearing she might push him away. “I hope you’ll make it home for the holidays this year, Brendan.”
“I’ll do my best,” he responded noncommittally. Keeping his voice carefully modulated, she noted, he continued, “By the way, Bri, how’s everything out there?”
The bright lights of a luxury superyacht sailing south a couple of miles off the coast caught Brielle’s attention. It was the same one she’d noticed on several occasions and belonged to Mayor Gage who allowed his cronies to throw lavish parties on it. According to gossip, the mayor and his wife sometimes joined their friends, and it was also noted that Chief of Police Linda Ferguson and her husband often attended those private parties. The Fergusons and the Gages made strange bedfellows, she thought.
Setting aside speculation about what was happening on the yacht, she replied, “Great. You know I’m training for SWAT. It’s tough, but I’m determined to make it.”
“You will,” Brendan assured her.
“On my own.”
Her implication was clear. With a single phone call from Madam Secretary, she’d be a shoo-in, and even more of a target. She wanted to earn her spot on the team through her own hard work and steely resolve.
“Of course. It’s been great talking to you, Bri. I’ll try to do a better job of keeping in touch.”
“Please do. Love you, Brendan.”
“Love you, too. Stay safe.”
By the time Brielle pressed the round red STOP button on her cell phone, the superyacht had slipped beyond her sight. She tilted her water bottle to her lips. She’d done a fair job of hiding her frustration over her SWAT training from her brother. Earlier today she’d been thrown to the mat by the other officers, including Howie, so many times she’d lost track. Her sessions in the boxing ring were helping, but she couldn’t gain an advantage. Loyal Howie tried to throw their match but ridicule from the others forced him to beat her.
As they’d filed out of the gym, her instructor had issued a stern warning: if she didn’t prove her ability to handle one on one combat, she’d be eliminated from the program. She’d taken down plenty of criminals on the street, but this was different. Tougher. With these guys she didn’t have an edge over them.
Needing to talk to Faith about it, she pressed the keypad with her number, but her friend didn’t answer her phone. After leaving a message, Brielle went inside, stretched out on her multi-sectional sofa, and found an old Bruce Lee movie on Netflix.
“Come on, Master Lee. Show me some moves I don’t already know.”
* * *
Music blared an upbeat tempo on the superyacht, fading into silence the farther the sound carried over the water. The privileged guests’ raucous laughter as they consumed unlimited amounts of alcohol and danced and flirted and fornicated in the luxurious cabins below deck drowned out the subtle sounds of heavy wooden crates being transferred to a motorboat that tagged alongside the superyacht. No one noticed it, and if they did, they were too drunk to care. Once the motorboat was filled with stacks of crates, it headed toward a particularly rocky part of the coastline.
Several Ford F-250’s waited for the shipment. Hands made quick work of moving the crates from the motorboat to the flat beds. No one spoke until someone stumbled and dropped one of the crates. It broke open, spilling its contents onto the sand.
“Fuck!”
The men grabbed the semi-automatic assault rifles and ammunition and threw them back into the crate. One man unobtrusively detached himself from the others and shoved one of the weapons into a crevice between the rocks. He kicked a box of ammunition a few feet away and stomped it into the sand. As soon as he had the opportunity, he’d return for them. But first he had to face the consequences of his stupidity.
When the trucks were loaded, they headed in different directions, but eventually they all turned north toward Oregon.
* * *
Hundreds of miles away in a dark, smoky dive deep on the south side of Chicago, Faith settled on a barstool with a bag that held her handgun and a can of pepper spray. Her driver’s license and twenty dollars in cash were tucked inside her cell phone case. While she waited, she refused offers to buy her a drink. She knew better than to eat or drink anything here, though after she explained to the bartender that she was expecting company, he quit giving her crap about not ordering a drink.
