Sign up to save your podcasts
Or
Share Guarding Tara: Part 1
Share to email
Share to Facebook
Share to X
Share to email
Share to Facebook
Share to X
Or
Guarding Tara: Part 1
Guarding Tara: Part 1
A Daughter of privilege learns the value of
vigilance, and the sexiness of valor.
Based on a post by The_Kansan. Listen to the
►Podcast at Steamy
Stories.
I glanced at the caller ID on my phone, answered the call.
"Hey, Cap, what's the occasion?" I asked. The caller was
an old Army buddy of mine, Jason Lang. He made it to Captain, served
six and got out. I did the whole twenty before getting out. We stayed
tight throughout it all, us and a few of the guys from our old unit.
Jason went back to college, got his master's in Political Science and
was elected Governor seven years ago. Talk about riding a meteor.
That was a hell of a victory party, what I remember of it, anyway.
When you're hungover for three days, you know it was a hell of a
party.
"Gabriel!" came the voice at the other end. "You
picked up, so I assume you're back stateside."
"Been back three days, now," I returned.
"How was it?"
"Ah, you know. Same shit, different faces." Eighteen
days in fucking El Salvador. Pretty ladies, but a seriously fucked up
culture and politics. Their normal ain't my normal, that's for damn
sure. We did our recon, gathered intel, and dealt with the target.
I'm just happy I didn't get the squirts this time.
"Well, my friend," Jason replied, "I'm glad you're
back safe."
"Thanks, Cap," I said. "Is everything cool? I know
you're crazy busy most of the time." The phone was quiet for a
few seconds.
"Yeah, probably," he began, "but the whole
'father's paranoia' thing is messing with me."
"Did something happen to Tara?" I asked, concerned. Tara
was Jason's only child, now twenty. Throughout her childhood, I was
always Uncle Gabe to her, a role that I cherished. Women in
my life came and went, none feeling right for any kind of lasting
relationship, so Tara was probably the closest thing to a daughter
that I'll ever have in my life.
"No; no. It's just, Gabe, I hate like hell to ask this, I
know you just got back;"
"No worries," I interrupted, "I'm already getting
bored. What's the issue?"
"Well, you know how frustrated she's been the last few years
about being the Governor's kid, right?"
"Oh, yes," I chuckled, "she's been very clear about
her feelings on the matter."
"That's a nice way of putting things," Jason continued.
"So, she's got this new boyfriend, now, kinda light in the ass
if you ask me, but I'm not the one who has to hang out with him.
Still I think boot camp would help him grow up.”
I chuckled, but Jason moved on to his point; “Anyway, she
got it in her head that she and Pee-Wee want to go camping; like
normal people, she says; and threw a tantrum over ditching her
security detail. Gabe, it's not a good time for any of us to be
without security, right now. I got several death threats for refusing
to pardon Enrico Zavala, and these dickheads are highly insane and
unpredictable." True. Guatemalan drug lords may talk a lot of
shit, but on any given Tuesday they can send a wagon load of shit to
your front porch.
"So, how'd the conversation play out?"
"Well, she's got a lot of her mother in her," Jason
explained.
"Meaning you lost?" I asked, even though I knew the
answer. Tara's mom, Donna, was Jason's first wife. Donna always won
their disagreements. Always. Donna was as brilliant as she was
beautiful, and that's saying a lot. Jason lost her to cancer five
years back.
"Yeah," he confessed, "I lost. She said she's an
adult, now, and can pretty much decide things for herself. She and
her man-child are heading off tomorrow to some double-top-secret
campsite, someplace remote where her security team can't stop by to
check on her."
"Is there such a place," I laughed.
"Hell, no. But, if I do send them in and she spots them, she
will lose her fucking mind and I'll never hear the end of it."
"So, what you need is a security team of one, someone who
won't be spotted." I didn't need to see Jason's face to know he
was smiling.
"Gabe, that's exactly what I need."
Tara and her boyfriend left the Governor's estate around nine
o'clock the next morning. I followed his pickup from a discreet
distance as they drove odd patterns all over the city, presumably to
see if her security team was behind them. Before hitting the highway,
they stopped at Walmart for last minute goodies. I made good use of
the time to put a magnetic tracker in his wheel well. From that point
on, it was a simple matter to follow them, staying a couple miles
behind the boyfriend's truck.
When Tara told her father she planned to go someplace remote, she
was serious. In a state park, they turned off the paved road onto a
very rough, seldom used dirt path that led straight into the heart of
some heavily forested, somewhat rough terrain. I held back as they
crawled through the woods in his little Toyota truck, taking nearly
an hour to go the six miles to their campsite. When I saw that the
tracker had stopped, I moved forward in my Jeep.
Three miles out, I stopped and set up early warning sensors on
trees that flanked the road, and a mile later I began placing a
series of trail cams in quarter-mile intervals. A mile from their
camp, I found a slight break in the trees where I could back my
Wrangler a few hundred feet off the trail.
I pulled my gear from the back and draped the vehicle with a camo
net and some fallen branches. In a spot that was clear of overhead
foliage, I set out my second-favorite toy, a quiet running drone with
remarkable range, a kick-ass zoom and infrared ability. Already in my
tactical clothing, I geared up with an ammo belt and mag holders,
vest, helmet and tactical pack. I grabbed my rifle, my favorite toy,
and headed out. Paralleling the trail but staying well away from it,
I moved in on their campsite, stopping two hundred yards out. Their
pickup was parked where a fallen pine log impeded any further vehicle
access. A marvelous small clearing was just 120 feet uphill. That was
where they were busy.
Setting up their tent seemed to be challenging, but they were
determined to have a place to play in. By late afternoon the tent was
up, fully stocked with their nighttime necessities, and the boyfriend
actually set up a campfire worthy of photographing for a scouting
handbook. I was already in my woodland ghillie suit. It made me look
like a swamp monster if I stood up, but when prone I looked like a
clump of grass and tree roots. I had done system checks on the trail
cams by the time they were cooking hot dogs over the fire, Tara
having declared her ultimate defiance of decorum by stripping naked,
except for her hiking boots.
For some time, I watched them, marveling at how my little Tara had
grown up. Her silky, brunette hair was long and luxurious, a perfect
match for her lovely, brown-eyed girl-next-door face. Toned and
graceful, she was a joy to behold. Tara's natural C-cup tits were
pert and fabulously placed, with no discernible sag, yet. At only
twenty years old she already had full, womanly hips and a gorgeous
ass. Silently, I cussed myself for noticing, but how could any man
not notice? To me, nothing is sexier than a naked full-figure woman,
in rugged boots.
I made a comfy spot to sit at the base of a tall cedar. Even
without the directional mic I was using, I could hear them laughing
and carrying on. Still, it proved useful. I learned that the
boyfriend's name was Trevor, and that he suspected Tara's dad didn't
like him, much. Not a total idiot, I suppose. With nearly an hour of
sunlight left, I watched them enter the tent, giggling like a pair of
middle-schoolers. They talked about where they had put the condoms,
and when Tara told him she wanted to put it on his cock, well, that's
when I aimed the mic back up the road in the opposite direction. I
loved Tara dearly, and that was not something I allowed myself to
listen to. My infra-red scope confirmed a cowgirl was in her mount.
That's when my training said to find another target for my
concentration. Sexual seduction, even for voyeuristic delight, can
lead to tragic outcomes. I'm here for a serious purpose.
By midnight, the only sounds I could detect coming from the tent
was that of someone snoring. I hoped it was Trevor. I heard an owl,
and a raccoon scuttling about nearby. When a family of deer tripped
the motion sensors on one of the trail cams, I watched on my phone as
they cautiously went about their business. Around 2am, I heard the
distant huffing of a very large bear. Likely a brown bear, but
possible a grizzly. It was probably a mile or more out, but I slid my
rifle from its pouch and attached a thermal zoom optic into place. My
300 Win Mag AR rifle was state of the art and would make short work
of the bear if it got too close to the tent. I pulled the suppressor
for the rifle from my pack and threaded it on. No sense in waking
them up if the big predator needed to be dealt with.
Fortunately, Tara had kept their food stores in a canvas duffle at
the nearest big Ponderosa pine, suspended by a rope, about 20 feet
off the ground, Their clothes were also stored outside the tent.
What do ya know, the girl did pay attention to the Venture Scouting
leaders.
It was quite a while before I heard the bear, again, this time
sounding even further away. I let myself relax a bit, to breathe in
the fresh night air and enjoy just swig of Kentucky bourbon from my
flask. I was reflecting upon what a nice night it was when the
three-mile sensors tripped. I pulled up the first trail cam on my
phone, waited to see what was coming down the trail. More deer,
perhaps? I waited. No, not deer this time. A dark SUV with several
passengers was creeping down the trail, engine idling, lights off. A
half-mile from Tara's camp, it stopped. Luckily, they were in my line
of sight. I scoped them with my rifle and watched silently as three
armed men got out and started toward the tent, one on the trail and
one on either side, moving through the trees. A fourth man stayed
behind, waiting in the driver's seat of the vehicle. I killed the
power to my electronics, so they could not detect any ping from me.
I remained perfectly still, watching as the three slowly came on
line with me, then passed by. I waited for them to get a hundred feet
down the trail before I started moving forward, heading to a spot
that was to their rear but did not put the tent in my line of fire.
The lone intruder walking on the trail was guided by some sort of
sensor, likely homing in on a cell phone ping in the tent.
At the campsite, the two flankers emerged from the tree line and
walked into the clearing, posting as security as the center man
closed on the front of the tent, holding his rifle at the ready.
This is when I stopped their
game plan. One, two, three; one, two,
three; One! Two! Three!
The three men were down. Each by a triple from my suppressed AR
rifle. I rushed toward the trail, found a clear line of sight to the
SUV, braced against a friendly tree and took out the driver. Now, the
suppressor on my AR helps reduce noise and muzzle flash a good deal,
but it can only do so much with a supersonic round. Tara and Trevor
were awake. I turned and ran for the camp, hoping to get there before
the screaming started, but I got there too late. That Trevor kid was
quite the screamer. The moon was nearly full and cast considerable
light, and when Trevor saw me racing in their direction, a creepy
forest monster in a ghillie suit, he ran off, screaming into the
woods behind their camp. Tara looked like she would have followed him
if she hadn't been paralyzed in terror.
Running into their camp, I pushed back the top of the suit, hoping
to show Tara it was me. She shook with disbelief, eyes wide.
Hyperventilating, wearing a long Black 'Cold Play' baggie tee shirt.
"Uncle Gabe?" she blurted out a question, still in shock
from the motionless bodies that littered the campsite. "Wha,
what the;" she glanced around, again. "What the fuck is
this?"
"This," I explained, "is why you should
always listen to your father. Security teams exist for a reason,
Tara, and this;” I rolled over a dead assailant for her to see
his blackened face; “is the reason."
I checked the three men for a pulse and found none. Two of them
had Latino gang tattoos. The two Hispanics I didn't recognize, but
the Caucasian looked familiar. I motioned Tara over. "Sweetie,
do you recognize any of these men?" When she looked at the
Caucasian, her eyes lit up.
"That's John!" she exclaimed, startled. "John
MacIntyre! He's been on my security team for almost a month! I, I; I
don't understand! What's going on?" She started to shiver in the
cold mountain night breeze, being barefoot and bare-legged.
"Tara, listen to me.” I said as I walked over to the
big Ponderosa Tree and untied the ropes, lowering their supplies to
the ground. “I need you to calm down, take a few deep breaths
and put on some clothing. Then go gather up your boyfriend. Round him
up and we'll talk, okay?" Tara nodded, then unzipped the duffle
and pulled out her jeans. She slipped on her hikers and ran to find
Trevor. I searched the bodies for IDs, found nothing. By the time I
had finished taking photos and removed my ghillie suit, Tara
returned, pulling a traumatized Trevor in tow. I told them to gather
their shit quickly and secure it in the back of Trevor's pickup. "Get
packed up, I need to check something and I'll be right back."
Back at my comfy tree, I booted up my electronics, then picked up
the drone controller and sent it up. Scanning with infrared, I sent
it to follow the trail back as far as its range would allow. Nothing.
I brought it back to land near my Jeep. Gathering my gear, I ran to
the hit team's SUV, searched for anything that might be a clue as to
who these guys were. Nothing, not even a phone. I yanked the dead
driver out of the vehicle, got in and started the engine, then drove
the vehicle up the trail. I parked it next to Trevor's pickup.
"Everything packed?" I asked as I got out.
Tara nodded, She had a backpack on one shoulder, I saw a bunch of
crap thrown hastily in the open back hatch.
Trevor looked like a man who suddenly realized there was shit in
his britches.
"Okay, good. Now, we don't have time for twenty questions, so
just understand that some very bad people have some very bad plans
for you.”
I turned my attention to the boy; “Trevor, you need to get
someplace off the grid and hide for a few days. No electronics, or
they'll find you. I'd leave all that shit here, if I was you."
Trevor nodded and threw his phone into the woods.
"Tara," I said firmly, "you're coming with me."
Without argument, she kissed her boyfriend. Then she opened his
driver door and said; “Now get your ass in a safe place and
don't call me until after you see my face in a live presser, with my
dad. Go, she ordered as she slapped her hand on the hood of the
vehicle. “Now!”
He made a tight turn around and drove slowly off just as the first
signs of impending sunrise emerged.
Tara then picked up her day pack and we walked silently,
vigilantly; back to my Jeep.
Once we were well out of the area, I called Jason.
"Are you certain it was John McIntyre?" Jason asked.
Tara grabbed my phone, then put it to speakerphone.
"Daddy, it was John," she confirmed. "What the hell
was he doing, there, and who were those other guys?"
"Sweetheart, I don't know. I'm going to get an investigation
going, just as soon as I get off the phone. Until we know more, I
want you to stay with Uncle Gabe, okay?"
"Okay, Daddy. I love you."
"I love you, too, Tara. I need to speak to Gabe, now."
“Jason, I have two pieces of advice. I will code the first.
'Trout master'.
“Yup!” Was Jason's clear confirmation.
“Second, let Defense intelligence handle this. If your own
administration is compromised, Assume that your entire state security
is needed an outside investigation. Because I'm now in the thick of
this, and it has international implications, The Fed's will take
over, anyway. But Defense intelligence is less likely to be corrupted
by politics.”
It was late morning when we finished the long drive and pulled up
to my cabin, nestled in forest at the end of a long dirt driveway.
Sunlight shone like glitter on the lake, just West of the property.
We got out, stretched our legs, and Tara took it all in with her
eyes. She grinned, turned to grab my arm as I came around the Jeep.
"Dang, Uncle Gabe," she beamed, "this is really
nice. It's so peaceful. Why is this the first time I'm seeing it?"
I drew her in for a long hug and kissed her forehead.
"Well, it's a bit of a drive and your dad never really takes
time off."
"Tell me about it. Still, you could have just taken me, you
know? Oh, my god! Is that a boat? You got a boat? I so want to go for
a ride on it. Can we?" I kissed her forehead, again, and broke
the hug.
"We'll take it out, hon," I promised as I moved to the
back of the Jeep. "We just need to get these groceries inside
and get settled in, first. Give an old man a hand?" Tara
followed me and I handed her a couple grocery bags. I loaded up with
as many as I could and followed her up the steps to the porch and
front door. Watching Tara's ass, and the sway of her hips, only
reminded me that Trevor was one lucky son-of-a-bitch who would never
be worthy of her affection.
Inside, Tara looked around the cabin, impressed by what she saw.
The central room was spacious, with an open floor plan that included
the living room, kitchen, dining nook, open pantry, and a massive
fireplace that always steals the show. Built of stone and timber, the
cabin had several large windows and a high, vaulted ceiling. The back
had two bedrooms and a roomy bathroom with a big, walk-in tiled
shower. Rustic log furniture was arranged around an area rug,
centered to face the fireplace.
"Damn, Gabe, this is gorgeous. I might not want to ever
leave."
"Oh," I began, setting the grocery bags on the kitchen
counter, "you'll be plenty bored in a day or two, just like
everyone else." I looked at Tara and grinned. "No TV."
"Everyone else?" she pressed. "Who is everyone,
past girlfriends?"
"No, not really. More like, short-term romantic interests."
Tara chuckled, "So, basically just one night stands and fuck
buddies?" I shrugged, not wishing to expand on the topic.
"Pretty much, yeah. Come on, potty-mouth, let's get the Jeep
unloaded before I starve to death."
We settled in, putting away the groceries and gear I had brought
in. Tara fixed us some sandwiches while I cleaned my AR in the living
room. The beers and roast beef sandwiches hit the spot. I started a
fire in the fireplace and we spent the afternoon chatting and
loafing. Tara proved to be great company, and always kept the
conversation interesting. It was the first time that she and I were
able to sit and just talk, alone together. It was nice.
"Okay," she began, "so of all the women you've
brought here, how many did you have sex with out on your boat?"
"Good lord, girl," I laughed, "you have a smutty
mind. Where do you get all these questions?"
"You're being evasive, Uncle Gabe," she scolded. "How
many, and if you try to bullshit me you will be punished severely."
"Punished?" I pondered aloud, twisting the cap off a
fresh beer. "How so?"
"Ever been kicked in the nuts and ruthlessly tickled, all at
the same time?"
"Two," I said without hesitation. "There were two."
Nobody wants to get kicked in the nuts while being tickled.
We knocked out our daily beer ration and just enjoyed each other's
company. The sun set, the moon rose. Around ten o'clock my phone
rang. Jason had flown in the team, our old Army buddies, Kyle,
Emmett, and Frank. Kyle and Emmett would be handling th
View all episodes
By Dawkins BlogGuarding Tara: Part 1
A Daughter of privilege learns the value of
vigilance, and the sexiness of valor.
Based on a post by The_Kansan. Listen to the
►Podcast at Steamy
Stories.
I glanced at the caller ID on my phone, answered the call.
"Hey, Cap, what's the occasion?" I asked. The caller was
an old Army buddy of mine, Jason Lang. He made it to Captain, served
six and got out. I did the whole twenty before getting out. We stayed
tight throughout it all, us and a few of the guys from our old unit.
Jason went back to college, got his master's in Political Science and
was elected Governor seven years ago. Talk about riding a meteor.
That was a hell of a victory party, what I remember of it, anyway.
When you're hungover for three days, you know it was a hell of a
party.
"Gabriel!" came the voice at the other end. "You
picked up, so I assume you're back stateside."
"Been back three days, now," I returned.
"How was it?"
"Ah, you know. Same shit, different faces." Eighteen
days in fucking El Salvador. Pretty ladies, but a seriously fucked up
culture and politics. Their normal ain't my normal, that's for damn
sure. We did our recon, gathered intel, and dealt with the target.
I'm just happy I didn't get the squirts this time.
"Well, my friend," Jason replied, "I'm glad you're
back safe."
"Thanks, Cap," I said. "Is everything cool? I know
you're crazy busy most of the time." The phone was quiet for a
few seconds.
"Yeah, probably," he began, "but the whole
'father's paranoia' thing is messing with me."
"Did something happen to Tara?" I asked, concerned. Tara
was Jason's only child, now twenty. Throughout her childhood, I was
always Uncle Gabe to her, a role that I cherished. Women in
my life came and went, none feeling right for any kind of lasting
relationship, so Tara was probably the closest thing to a daughter
that I'll ever have in my life.
"No; no. It's just, Gabe, I hate like hell to ask this, I
know you just got back;"
"No worries," I interrupted, "I'm already getting
bored. What's the issue?"
"Well, you know how frustrated she's been the last few years
about being the Governor's kid, right?"
"Oh, yes," I chuckled, "she's been very clear about
her feelings on the matter."
"That's a nice way of putting things," Jason continued.
"So, she's got this new boyfriend, now, kinda light in the ass
if you ask me, but I'm not the one who has to hang out with him.
Still I think boot camp would help him grow up.”
I chuckled, but Jason moved on to his point; “Anyway, she
got it in her head that she and Pee-Wee want to go camping; like
normal people, she says; and threw a tantrum over ditching her
security detail. Gabe, it's not a good time for any of us to be
without security, right now. I got several death threats for refusing
to pardon Enrico Zavala, and these dickheads are highly insane and
unpredictable." True. Guatemalan drug lords may talk a lot of
shit, but on any given Tuesday they can send a wagon load of shit to
your front porch.
"So, how'd the conversation play out?"
"Well, she's got a lot of her mother in her," Jason
explained.
"Meaning you lost?" I asked, even though I knew the
answer. Tara's mom, Donna, was Jason's first wife. Donna always won
their disagreements. Always. Donna was as brilliant as she was
beautiful, and that's saying a lot. Jason lost her to cancer five
years back.
"Yeah," he confessed, "I lost. She said she's an
adult, now, and can pretty much decide things for herself. She and
her man-child are heading off tomorrow to some double-top-secret
campsite, someplace remote where her security team can't stop by to
check on her."
"Is there such a place," I laughed.
"Hell, no. But, if I do send them in and she spots them, she
will lose her fucking mind and I'll never hear the end of it."
"So, what you need is a security team of one, someone who
won't be spotted." I didn't need to see Jason's face to know he
was smiling.
"Gabe, that's exactly what I need."
Tara and her boyfriend left the Governor's estate around nine
o'clock the next morning. I followed his pickup from a discreet
distance as they drove odd patterns all over the city, presumably to
see if her security team was behind them. Before hitting the highway,
they stopped at Walmart for last minute goodies. I made good use of
the time to put a magnetic tracker in his wheel well. From that point
on, it was a simple matter to follow them, staying a couple miles
behind the boyfriend's truck.
When Tara told her father she planned to go someplace remote, she
was serious. In a state park, they turned off the paved road onto a
very rough, seldom used dirt path that led straight into the heart of
some heavily forested, somewhat rough terrain. I held back as they
crawled through the woods in his little Toyota truck, taking nearly
an hour to go the six miles to their campsite. When I saw that the
tracker had stopped, I moved forward in my Jeep.
Three miles out, I stopped and set up early warning sensors on
trees that flanked the road, and a mile later I began placing a
series of trail cams in quarter-mile intervals. A mile from their
camp, I found a slight break in the trees where I could back my
Wrangler a few hundred feet off the trail.
I pulled my gear from the back and draped the vehicle with a camo
net and some fallen branches. In a spot that was clear of overhead
foliage, I set out my second-favorite toy, a quiet running drone with
remarkable range, a kick-ass zoom and infrared ability. Already in my
tactical clothing, I geared up with an ammo belt and mag holders,
vest, helmet and tactical pack. I grabbed my rifle, my favorite toy,
and headed out. Paralleling the trail but staying well away from it,
I moved in on their campsite, stopping two hundred yards out. Their
pickup was parked where a fallen pine log impeded any further vehicle
access. A marvelous small clearing was just 120 feet uphill. That was
where they were busy.
Setting up their tent seemed to be challenging, but they were
determined to have a place to play in. By late afternoon the tent was
up, fully stocked with their nighttime necessities, and the boyfriend
actually set up a campfire worthy of photographing for a scouting
handbook. I was already in my woodland ghillie suit. It made me look
like a swamp monster if I stood up, but when prone I looked like a
clump of grass and tree roots. I had done system checks on the trail
cams by the time they were cooking hot dogs over the fire, Tara
having declared her ultimate defiance of decorum by stripping naked,
except for her hiking boots.
For some time, I watched them, marveling at how my little Tara had
grown up. Her silky, brunette hair was long and luxurious, a perfect
match for her lovely, brown-eyed girl-next-door face. Toned and
graceful, she was a joy to behold. Tara's natural C-cup tits were
pert and fabulously placed, with no discernible sag, yet. At only
twenty years old she already had full, womanly hips and a gorgeous
ass. Silently, I cussed myself for noticing, but how could any man
not notice? To me, nothing is sexier than a naked full-figure woman,
in rugged boots.
I made a comfy spot to sit at the base of a tall cedar. Even
without the directional mic I was using, I could hear them laughing
and carrying on. Still, it proved useful. I learned that the
boyfriend's name was Trevor, and that he suspected Tara's dad didn't
like him, much. Not a total idiot, I suppose. With nearly an hour of
sunlight left, I watched them enter the tent, giggling like a pair of
middle-schoolers. They talked about where they had put the condoms,
and when Tara told him she wanted to put it on his cock, well, that's
when I aimed the mic back up the road in the opposite direction. I
loved Tara dearly, and that was not something I allowed myself to
listen to. My infra-red scope confirmed a cowgirl was in her mount.
That's when my training said to find another target for my
concentration. Sexual seduction, even for voyeuristic delight, can
lead to tragic outcomes. I'm here for a serious purpose.
By midnight, the only sounds I could detect coming from the tent
was that of someone snoring. I hoped it was Trevor. I heard an owl,
and a raccoon scuttling about nearby. When a family of deer tripped
the motion sensors on one of the trail cams, I watched on my phone as
they cautiously went about their business. Around 2am, I heard the
distant huffing of a very large bear. Likely a brown bear, but
possible a grizzly. It was probably a mile or more out, but I slid my
rifle from its pouch and attached a thermal zoom optic into place. My
300 Win Mag AR rifle was state of the art and would make short work
of the bear if it got too close to the tent. I pulled the suppressor
for the rifle from my pack and threaded it on. No sense in waking
them up if the big predator needed to be dealt with.
Fortunately, Tara had kept their food stores in a canvas duffle at
the nearest big Ponderosa pine, suspended by a rope, about 20 feet
off the ground, Their clothes were also stored outside the tent.
What do ya know, the girl did pay attention to the Venture Scouting
leaders.
It was quite a while before I heard the bear, again, this time
sounding even further away. I let myself relax a bit, to breathe in
the fresh night air and enjoy just swig of Kentucky bourbon from my
flask. I was reflecting upon what a nice night it was when the
three-mile sensors tripped. I pulled up the first trail cam on my
phone, waited to see what was coming down the trail. More deer,
perhaps? I waited. No, not deer this time. A dark SUV with several
passengers was creeping down the trail, engine idling, lights off. A
half-mile from Tara's camp, it stopped. Luckily, they were in my line
of sight. I scoped them with my rifle and watched silently as three
armed men got out and started toward the tent, one on the trail and
one on either side, moving through the trees. A fourth man stayed
behind, waiting in the driver's seat of the vehicle. I killed the
power to my electronics, so they could not detect any ping from me.
I remained perfectly still, watching as the three slowly came on
line with me, then passed by. I waited for them to get a hundred feet
down the trail before I started moving forward, heading to a spot
that was to their rear but did not put the tent in my line of fire.
The lone intruder walking on the trail was guided by some sort of
sensor, likely homing in on a cell phone ping in the tent.
At the campsite, the two flankers emerged from the tree line and
walked into the clearing, posting as security as the center man
closed on the front of the tent, holding his rifle at the ready.
This is when I stopped their
game plan. One, two, three; one, two,
three; One! Two! Three!
The three men were down. Each by a triple from my suppressed AR
rifle. I rushed toward the trail, found a clear line of sight to the
SUV, braced against a friendly tree and took out the driver. Now, the
suppressor on my AR helps reduce noise and muzzle flash a good deal,
but it can only do so much with a supersonic round. Tara and Trevor
were awake. I turned and ran for the camp, hoping to get there before
the screaming started, but I got there too late. That Trevor kid was
quite the screamer. The moon was nearly full and cast considerable
light, and when Trevor saw me racing in their direction, a creepy
forest monster in a ghillie suit, he ran off, screaming into the
woods behind their camp. Tara looked like she would have followed him
if she hadn't been paralyzed in terror.
Running into their camp, I pushed back the top of the suit, hoping
to show Tara it was me. She shook with disbelief, eyes wide.
Hyperventilating, wearing a long Black 'Cold Play' baggie tee shirt.
"Uncle Gabe?" she blurted out a question, still in shock
from the motionless bodies that littered the campsite. "Wha,
what the;" she glanced around, again. "What the fuck is
this?"
"This," I explained, "is why you should
always listen to your father. Security teams exist for a reason,
Tara, and this;” I rolled over a dead assailant for her to see
his blackened face; “is the reason."
I checked the three men for a pulse and found none. Two of them
had Latino gang tattoos. The two Hispanics I didn't recognize, but
the Caucasian looked familiar. I motioned Tara over. "Sweetie,
do you recognize any of these men?" When she looked at the
Caucasian, her eyes lit up.
"That's John!" she exclaimed, startled. "John
MacIntyre! He's been on my security team for almost a month! I, I; I
don't understand! What's going on?" She started to shiver in the
cold mountain night breeze, being barefoot and bare-legged.
"Tara, listen to me.” I said as I walked over to the
big Ponderosa Tree and untied the ropes, lowering their supplies to
the ground. “I need you to calm down, take a few deep breaths
and put on some clothing. Then go gather up your boyfriend. Round him
up and we'll talk, okay?" Tara nodded, then unzipped the duffle
and pulled out her jeans. She slipped on her hikers and ran to find
Trevor. I searched the bodies for IDs, found nothing. By the time I
had finished taking photos and removed my ghillie suit, Tara
returned, pulling a traumatized Trevor in tow. I told them to gather
their shit quickly and secure it in the back of Trevor's pickup. "Get
packed up, I need to check something and I'll be right back."
Back at my comfy tree, I booted up my electronics, then picked up
the drone controller and sent it up. Scanning with infrared, I sent
it to follow the trail back as far as its range would allow. Nothing.
I brought it back to land near my Jeep. Gathering my gear, I ran to
the hit team's SUV, searched for anything that might be a clue as to
who these guys were. Nothing, not even a phone. I yanked the dead
driver out of the vehicle, got in and started the engine, then drove
the vehicle up the trail. I parked it next to Trevor's pickup.
"Everything packed?" I asked as I got out.
Tara nodded, She had a backpack on one shoulder, I saw a bunch of
crap thrown hastily in the open back hatch.
Trevor looked like a man who suddenly realized there was shit in
his britches.
"Okay, good. Now, we don't have time for twenty questions, so
just understand that some very bad people have some very bad plans
for you.”
I turned my attention to the boy; “Trevor, you need to get
someplace off the grid and hide for a few days. No electronics, or
they'll find you. I'd leave all that shit here, if I was you."
Trevor nodded and threw his phone into the woods.
"Tara," I said firmly, "you're coming with me."
Without argument, she kissed her boyfriend. Then she opened his
driver door and said; “Now get your ass in a safe place and
don't call me until after you see my face in a live presser, with my
dad. Go, she ordered as she slapped her hand on the hood of the
vehicle. “Now!”
He made a tight turn around and drove slowly off just as the first
signs of impending sunrise emerged.
Tara then picked up her day pack and we walked silently,
vigilantly; back to my Jeep.
Once we were well out of the area, I called Jason.
"Are you certain it was John McIntyre?" Jason asked.
Tara grabbed my phone, then put it to speakerphone.
"Daddy, it was John," she confirmed. "What the hell
was he doing, there, and who were those other guys?"
"Sweetheart, I don't know. I'm going to get an investigation
going, just as soon as I get off the phone. Until we know more, I
want you to stay with Uncle Gabe, okay?"
"Okay, Daddy. I love you."
"I love you, too, Tara. I need to speak to Gabe, now."
“Jason, I have two pieces of advice. I will code the first.
'Trout master'.
“Yup!” Was Jason's clear confirmation.
“Second, let Defense intelligence handle this. If your own
administration is compromised, Assume that your entire state security
is needed an outside investigation. Because I'm now in the thick of
this, and it has international implications, The Fed's will take
over, anyway. But Defense intelligence is less likely to be corrupted
by politics.”
It was late morning when we finished the long drive and pulled up
to my cabin, nestled in forest at the end of a long dirt driveway.
Sunlight shone like glitter on the lake, just West of the property.
We got out, stretched our legs, and Tara took it all in with her
eyes. She grinned, turned to grab my arm as I came around the Jeep.
"Dang, Uncle Gabe," she beamed, "this is really
nice. It's so peaceful. Why is this the first time I'm seeing it?"
I drew her in for a long hug and kissed her forehead.
"Well, it's a bit of a drive and your dad never really takes
time off."
"Tell me about it. Still, you could have just taken me, you
know? Oh, my god! Is that a boat? You got a boat? I so want to go for
a ride on it. Can we?" I kissed her forehead, again, and broke
the hug.
"We'll take it out, hon," I promised as I moved to the
back of the Jeep. "We just need to get these groceries inside
and get settled in, first. Give an old man a hand?" Tara
followed me and I handed her a couple grocery bags. I loaded up with
as many as I could and followed her up the steps to the porch and
front door. Watching Tara's ass, and the sway of her hips, only
reminded me that Trevor was one lucky son-of-a-bitch who would never
be worthy of her affection.
Inside, Tara looked around the cabin, impressed by what she saw.
The central room was spacious, with an open floor plan that included
the living room, kitchen, dining nook, open pantry, and a massive
fireplace that always steals the show. Built of stone and timber, the
cabin had several large windows and a high, vaulted ceiling. The back
had two bedrooms and a roomy bathroom with a big, walk-in tiled
shower. Rustic log furniture was arranged around an area rug,
centered to face the fireplace.
"Damn, Gabe, this is gorgeous. I might not want to ever
leave."
"Oh," I began, setting the grocery bags on the kitchen
counter, "you'll be plenty bored in a day or two, just like
everyone else." I looked at Tara and grinned. "No TV."
"Everyone else?" she pressed. "Who is everyone,
past girlfriends?"
"No, not really. More like, short-term romantic interests."
Tara chuckled, "So, basically just one night stands and fuck
buddies?" I shrugged, not wishing to expand on the topic.
"Pretty much, yeah. Come on, potty-mouth, let's get the Jeep
unloaded before I starve to death."
We settled in, putting away the groceries and gear I had brought
in. Tara fixed us some sandwiches while I cleaned my AR in the living
room. The beers and roast beef sandwiches hit the spot. I started a
fire in the fireplace and we spent the afternoon chatting and
loafing. Tara proved to be great company, and always kept the
conversation interesting. It was the first time that she and I were
able to sit and just talk, alone together. It was nice.
"Okay," she began, "so of all the women you've
brought here, how many did you have sex with out on your boat?"
"Good lord, girl," I laughed, "you have a smutty
mind. Where do you get all these questions?"
"You're being evasive, Uncle Gabe," she scolded. "How
many, and if you try to bullshit me you will be punished severely."
"Punished?" I pondered aloud, twisting the cap off a
fresh beer. "How so?"
"Ever been kicked in the nuts and ruthlessly tickled, all at
the same time?"
"Two," I said without hesitation. "There were two."
Nobody wants to get kicked in the nuts while being tickled.
We knocked out our daily beer ration and just enjoyed each other's
company. The sun set, the moon rose. Around ten o'clock my phone
rang. Jason had flown in the team, our old Army buddies, Kyle,
Emmett, and Frank. Kyle and Emmett would be handling th