Rome’s Pride: Chapter Four

Present day… Refuge, North Carolina, USA

Sheriff Rome Barrio brought his county issued SUV to a halt in front of the massive log and stone edifice he called home. He turned off the engine, leaned back in his seat, and simply stared through the windshield. After a few minutes of blessed silence, he rubbed weary hands over his face. The stubby bristles made a scratching sound.

He felt and smelled like he’d just come off a weeklong bender. Three months of deep undercover work were complete. The multi-agency, multi-jurisdictional drug task force he’d been requested to join a year ago, had temporarily made a major dent in the drug trade in Knoxville. Over one hundred suspects had been arrested and two major supply lines closed. They hadn’t won the war on drugs, but this battle had been successful. Sometimes it was all you could ask.

Now that he was home, Rome wanted a hot meal, a shave and a haircut, and twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. He just needed to find the energy to drag his exhausted body out of the vehicle. Should’ve stopped for something to eat on the ride home, but the food might have tipped the edge and cost him the concentration he needed to drive.

Sighing, he opened the door, swung around, and placed one booted foot on the ground. His phone rang. Cursing, he snatched the phone out of its clip and lifted it to read the display. The name had his adrenaline surging, and he answered quickly. “Barrio.”

“Your woman just stirred up a shit storm of trouble.”

Rome’s blood ran cold. “What happened?”

He listened as Logan gave him the rundown.

“What do you want me to do?” Logan asked.

“Sit tight and watch your six. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“See you when you get here. I’ll have transport waiting for you at the airport,” Logan said.

Rome disconnected the call and immediately dialed another number. As the phone rang, he was on the move, taking his gear out of the car and striding toward the house. The other line answered as he walked through the front doors.

“Rome, how can I help the Bradford County Sherriff’s department?”

“Sam, got a situation. I need to borrow the Cessna.”

“Sure thing, Rome. It’s not booked. Tell me when you need it, and I’ll have it gassed and ready.”

“I’ll need it for a couple of days,” Rome warned. “I’m headed into Costa Rica.”

“So I’m guessing this isn’t police business, unless you’re on a manhunt I haven’t heard about,” Sam said.

“No, it’s personal. Zuri’s run into a bit of trouble. I’m going to retrieve her.”

“Zuri? I haven’t seen her in years. How is that foster sister of yours? Costa Rica, huh? I guess that explains why she hasn’t been around. Don’t worry about the plane. I understand completely. Family’s got to stick together. If someone needs a charter, I can use the Lear Jet.”

Sam was a talker. Always had been, always would be, but he had a good heart so Rome didn’t take offense. There was, however, one thing Rome needed to make clear. “Zuri’s not family. She’s my mate.”

There was a stunned silence on the other line. “Shit, Rome. Your mate? How long have you known?”

“Since before BUD/s training,” Rome said shortly. The topic was still a sore one with him, even though he’d made the only decision he could at the time. Zuri had been so young, and they’d both had so much living ahead of them.

“Tell me which airport you’re flying into, and I’ll file the flight plan. Have her ready to go when you arrive.”

“Thanks, Sam.” This was another reason the two men were still friends. Sam liked to talk, but he knew when to be straight and to the point. “I’m flying into the regional airport in Golfito. That’s the southern pacific region of Costa Rica. Give me an hour to shower and pack, and make sure everything here is covered. Then I’ll be to the airport.”

“You’re leaving to fly in there now? Most small runways in that region aren’t lighted. The situation must be critical.”

“Time is an issue. I haven’t been there myself but I’m guessing like you said, the runway’s not lit.” Rome glanced at his watch. “We’re about two hours ahead of them. It’s a four-hour flight straight. A little over if I have to stop for gas. If I lift off by one, that should give me enough time to set down in daylight hours. The landing strip is right on the pacific.”

“You’re going by yourself?”

“Yes, I don’t have time to call in anyone.”

“All right. Rome?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope everything turns out well with Zuri.”

“Me, too, Sam. Me, too.” Rome swiped the phone to disconnect the call and jogged up the stairs, his former tiredness forgotten.