<< Go Back

Restored (Riven Republic 3)

By H. L. Wegley

Order Now!

Chapter 1
July 25, 2:30 p.m., Terrebonne, Oregon
Radley Baker made the turn onto NW 43rd and shoved the accelerator to the floor.
The 700-horsepower engine under the hood of his Trackhawk sent the big SUV surging ahead of the motorcycle that had been glued to his rear bumper since he turned off from Highway 97 at Terrebonne.
Why was someone following him? Was President Walker trying to pick off the Central Oregon Militia one-by-one and he was the first victim?
Baker glanced down at his M4 riding shotgun beside him.
Nah.
He didn’t need the gun. Baker had 700 horsepower and outweighed the bike and rider by at least two-and-a-half tons. He could run over them if it came to that.
The road ran straight for the next mile, but the straightaway ended in sweeping S-curves. Maybe he could shake the dude on the bike before the curves.
Baker punched the gas pedal and accelerated to a hundred miles-per-hour before he braked, preparing for the curves.
The motorcycle caught up to him. From the looks and the acceleration of the Honda racing bike, it could have passed him had the rider been foolhardy enough to try.
He slowed and took the curves at a sane speed.
Baker had frequently been accused of being a dare devil, but that would not be the case tonight.
Five miles ahead, Shauna Jackson, AKA Munchkin, the cutest little spitfire on this side of the mountains, waited for him, and this was one date Baker would not miss, not even for the thrill of outracing a—what was that bike on his tail? A Honda Fireblade?
Thoughts of a Fireblade brought a number to mind. Top end, 186 miles-per-hour.
Hey, dude. If you want to see Munchkin, don’t race the bike.
For once the annoying voice inside had offered some sound advice. His Trackhawk had power, but that motorcycle was designed for speed.
Baker slowed and prepared to take the ninety-degree turn onto Northwest Chinook Drive.
The bike pulled into the left lane and accelerated until he was looking into the faceplate of the biker’s helmet. The tinted face shield hid the face behind it.
The tingling climbing Baker’s spine sent his right hand reaching for his M4. But there was no weapon in the biker’s hand.
The biker nodded at him then fell in behind his Trackhawk.
Baker negotiated the right-angle turn.
He’d just been checked out and approved by some dude on a racing bike, whatever that meant.
The protective riding suit hid the biker’s body, but after a close-up look, that was not a guy straddling the Fireblade.
A woman riding a lightning-fast racing bike? That was unusual to say the least. Who was she and what did she want?
His curiosity could wait the four remaining miles to Julia’s and Steve’s house where Shauna was staying. Either the biker would follow him to the house or turn down the hill to the golf course and restaurants.
After the checkout and approving nod, his gut said the bike would follow him.
Five minutes later, Baker turned in to the circle drive at the Bancrofts’ mansion.
David Craig’s Jeep and Zach Tanner’s truck were parked ahead of him.
The militia commander and their talk show host had come. Was there a militia meeting going on? No one told him about it.
Behind him, the bike braked to a stop on the roadway. The rider seemed to be studying the house.
Was she a threat? He still saw no signs of any weapon.
Baker kept the motorcycle in sight by glancing over his left shoulder several times as he made his way to the front door.
Ms. Anonymous on the Honda turned in and stopped behind his Trackhawk.
His Trackhawk—she couldn’t have it. He felt for the key fob in his pocket and pushed the lock button again for good measure. She couldn’t have his M4 either. It was locked up safe inside his SUV.
Baker rapped on the door then let himself in and walked through the entryway to the great room.
Craig and Susan O’Connell sat on the big couch. Zach and Kate Alexander sat beside the couch in a couple of folding chairs, while Steve and Julia occupied the two easy chairs.
Shauna entered from the kitchen and smiled warmly when she looked his way.
He needed to tell Craig about the biker, but one look at Munchkin had nearly erased everything else from his memory.
He walked her way, hooked her arm, and pulled her around until they faced Craig. “Sir, we’ve got a visitor outside. Followed me on a racing bike from near Terrebonne.”
“Someone on a motorcycle?” Craig stood. “Was he armed?”
“I don’t think it’s a he.”
The first four notes of the Westminster chime sounded from Julia’s doorbell.
“I’ve got this.” Julia headed toward the door.
“Let me answer, Julia.” Craig strode past her.
Steve pulled out his handgun. “Got you covered, sir.”
Craig stopped in front of the door and looked out the peephole. “It’s a young lady. No weapons that I can see. Just a helmet in her hand. I think were safe.” He opened the door. “May I help you?”
“This must be the right house. I followed Mr. Baker here and … you’re Colonel Craig, right?”
“I’m Colonel Craig, but I’m not sure what house you’re looking for.”
“I’m Airman Gore—at least I was until yesterday. Now I’m just plain old Kathy Gore.”
Baker studied her and listened to the exchange from where he stood arm-in-arm with Shauna.
She was slender, as he had thought, about five-foot-eight, bare minimum size to handle a Fireblade.
“Come in, Ms. Gore.” Craig motioned toward the great room. “So you’re the airman at the Western Air Defense Sector who warned us about the attack.”
She nodded.
“There are some grateful people here who would like to thank you for what you did.”
“What’s she doing here?” Shauna whispered to Baker.
“Let’s go find out.” He pulled her with him.
Kathy Gore studied them as they approached. “Radley Baker, the pilot. So we finally meet.”
“Just call me Beholden Baker, Ms. Gore. You bought me just enough time to outmaneuver the Growler’s missile that was chasing my bird’s exhaust.”
Shauna pulled him snugly against her side. “And I’m beholden Shauna Jackson. Glad to meet you, Kathy Gore.”
“Also known as Munchkin,” Baker said.
“That’s enough, Runt.” Shauna dropped his arm and poked his shoulder.
Craig motioned toward the unoccupied end of the couch, beyond Susan. “Why don’t you have a seat and tell us what you are doing down here at Crooked River Ranch? Are you on leave, Kathy?”
“More like permanent leave. I wouldn’t confess to any violations of the UCMJ, and my commander found out I was in touch with Court & Carpenter, a top-rated, military only law firm. He was afraid to court-martial me, so he got frustrated and agreed to give me an honorable discharge just to get rid of me.”
Baker chuckled. “He violated his oath and the Constitution when he ordered the attack on us. He probably realized that an extensive investigation of the incident with that Growler would be much less likely and less productive if you were gone.”
“Probably,” Kathy said. “But the military’s loyalty is divided, so one can’t be sure who might be watching you or thinking about prosecuting you.”
Shauna dropped Baker’s hand and took a step toward the young woman. “On a more pleasant note—can I give you a hug, Kathy Gore?”
“Are you and Baker uh …”
Shauna gave her a warm hug. “That runt means a lot to everyone here.”
“I see,” Kathy said, her gaze shifting back and forth between Shauna and Baker.
“So what are you planning to do now that the Air Force discharged you?” Craig said.
“I came here to see if there’s anything I can do to help you defend Oregon from President Walker.”
Craig gave her his winning smile which slowly morphed to a wry grin. “What do you think you bring to the table, Ms. Gore?”
“Just call me Kathy.” She paused. “I still have friends at WADS Headquarters, people who will keep an eye out for you, much like I did.”
“I’ll bet you have some inside info that would be useful for our intelligence analyst.” He glanced at Susan.
Susan walked over and curled an arm around Craig’s waist.
If Baker had ever seen one, those two were a matched pair.
Craig reciprocated the arm-around-waist maneuver. “This is Susan O’Connell, part-time barista extraordinaire and full-time intelligence analyst.”
Kathy studied Craig and Susan. “Hello, Susan. You know, this seems to be a very friendly place. You are all so … so …”
“Coupled up?” Shauna grinned. “We’re all either engaged or married.”
Baker’s head swiveled toward Shauna. “Munchkin, I never popped the question to you. What made you—”
“Yes, you have, Radley Baker. Your memory must be as short as you are. Remember that drive home from Clear Lake?”
“Oh, that.” Baker’s gaze dropped to the floor.
“Yeah, that.”
Kathy’s gaze swept the room. “Am I going to fit in with this group? And what about a place to stay out here in the desert?”
“If you agree that Walker is violating the Constitution and must be stopped, you’ll fit right in,” Craig said.
“About that place to stay—I’m Julia and this is my husband, Steve. We own this house and one of our guests, Zach Tanner, just bought a motorhome and parked it down at the RV park on the ranch. His bedroom is available if you plan to stay.”
“I can pay—”
“No, you can’t,” Julia said. “If you stay, you’ll have to share a bathroom with Kate and Shauna. But if you help the militia, you’ll more than earn your keep.”
After they finished introductions, an electronic device started playing that wild blue yonder song.
Baker quickly focused on the source, Kathy.
She pulled her cell phone from her riding pants pocket. “Excuse me. This could be important.” She walked out to the entryway and appeared to have an intense discussion with someone.
“When I heard she was arrested, I thought we had lost a critical source of information,” Craig said.
“You mean we lost our guardian angel,” Shauna said. “With that pixie cut and her auburn hair, she’s pretty cute. Bet she’s not a day over twenty. Too bad we don’t have any guys in their early—”
“You’ve gotta let that girl have some time to adjust, Munchkin,” Baker said. “She’s been through a lot in the past week or two. A boyfriend is probably the last thing on her mind right now.”
“You are showing your ignorance of women, Radley Baker.”
“Well, I know you. Isn’t that knowing a woman?”
“You know choppers and all those gauges and things on the control panel. But knowing a woman is like knowing two dozen different control panels on two dozen airplanes, and—”
“So women are too complicated to know?”
“Radley Baker, right now you don’t know—”
“Right now, I only want to know where the throttle is on the control panel to shut that baby down.”
Shauna’s hands went to her hips. “What baby?”
“Your motor mouth, Munchkin.”
Kathy’s re-entrance into the great room put his war of words with Shauna in a temporary ceasefire but did not terminate the laser sharp looks from her intense brown eyes.
Kathy’s visage had changed from the cheerful young woman who had previously left the room. The healthy tan color had drained from her face. She chewed on her lower lip.
The room grew silent.
Kathy sighed as if she was trying to relax. “That was the burner phone I bought to keep in touch with a friend back at WADS. She called because there has been some tell-tale activity at JBLM (Joint Base Lewis McCord), and there are some rumors running around about a big mission. Everyone here may soon be in danger. We think a large-scale attack is imminent involving troops and aircraft from JBLM.”
“Why do you think it’s a large-scale attack?” Craig asked.
“What would you call fifteen Apaches, four companies of Army Rangers, and enough C-17s to deploy them?”
“A large-scale attack,” Craig said.
Steve whistled through his teeth.
“Not good.” Craig shook his head. “Any idea when this attack might occur?”
Kathy nodded. “In about four days—maybe a little sooner.”
“Everybody, listen up!” Craig scanned the people in the room. “Spread the word to our leaders. We’re meeting here at 7:00 p.m.—in three and a half hours. Tell them we’re at DEFCON 2 and we’re anticipating the largest battle yet in this war with President Walker.”
He turned toward Kathy. “Are you sure you want in on this war, Ms. Gore? It’s not going to be as safe as working in the Western Air Defense Sector.”
“Here I can actually defend the Constitution. I can’t think of any other place I’d rather be.”
Craig shook her hand. “Then welcome aboard.”
Baker looked down into Shauna’s dark eyes.
She met his gaze. “I can’t think of another place I’d rather be either.”
“So I’m forgiven?”
“Baker, I wouldn’t count on it if I were you.”

Order Now!

<< Go Back