It was like an episode of The Twilight Zone, Tom thought as he watched Liza and Pastor talk.
The man had been like a kindly grandfather with Liza’s patient Brooklyn. And then again later, when Liza had been ordered back to socialize with him, he’d been kind and thoughtful. He’d asked questions about her time in Afghanistan and she’d answered him honestly.
If one didn’t know her, they’d believe that she was having a lovely chat.
“Remarkable,” Raeburn murmured. “He is an utter chameleon. He can torture, order killings, enable rape, and then talk to Liza like he’s Mr. Rogers.”
“I can see how people would follow him,” Croft agreed. “They’d just trust him.”
It was true. Then again, Tom had grown up with a monster, a murderous dirty cop whom everyone had liked and admired. “The best sociopaths can feign empathy. My biological father was the life of the party, the cop all the other cops looked up to. One of the guys on the force even named his kid after him. That was awkward, especially after he was killed in prison.”
Croft sighed. “And all the time he was coming home to abuse you and your mother.”
“Yeah. So I guess I’m a little cynical about people like Pastor.”
“A little cynicism isn’t a bad thing,” Raeburn said. “Keeps you sharp.”
Tom agreed with that, to a point. “But too much can make you bitter.” His phone chimed and he grabbed it, hoping it was a notification of activity on Cameron Cook’s account—maybe Graham telling him that he’d clicked on the link that would allow Tom to control his computer—because they’d heard nothing out of Eden. But it wasn’t from Cameron Cook’s account.
“Someone in the billing office finally clicked on my Trojan,” he said, relief coursing through him. He’d be able to shut the security network down. Best case, they’d order in an outside contractor and the Bureau could get another person inside. Worst case, the security team would be so busy fixing their network that they wouldn’t detect Liza’s presence.
He had opened his laptop and begun to type when a strangled noise from Croft had him looking up at the monitor.
Tom’s blood ran cold. “No, no, no,” he whispered.
DJ Belmont had entered the solarium with Nurse Innes. The two left a moment later, but Tom had seen the look on Belmont’s face. He knew. Oh my God. He knew.
Raeburn was already on the phone with the surveillance van. “Move,” he ordered.
Federal agents, including a SWAT team that had been positioned near the surveillance van, rushed to cut off the exits.
“Run, Liza,” he breathed. “Run.”
Liza did, leaving Pastor where he sat and heading for the exit.
Tom fired off a text to Rafe, who was keeping watch from the employee lot. Belmont in the facility. Liza headed to employee exit.
Ready was Rafe’s reply.
And then Liza stopped walking.
Tom’s heart stopped at a man’s murmur. “If you run, I’ll kill you. Then I’ll go into that solarium and kill every single patient. Not all of them are criminals. A couple of them are kids. You okay with them dying, too?”
“What do you want?” Liza asked, turning her body so that the pendant and her glasses caught DJ’s face. He was bald and clean shaven, and a surgical mask dangled under his chin.
A moment later, the pendant was yanked from Liza’s throat, followed by her glasses. And then all they could see was the inside of a trash can.
Tom stared at the monitor, trying to think of what he could do. None of the wireless cameras were picking her up, and he could only watch helplessly.
“They’ll be searching for her soon,” Raeburn said. “She’ll be okay.”
Croft squeezed Tom’s shoulder. “Breathe,” she ordered.
Tom realized he hadn’t been, so he sucked in a breath that burned.
His cell began to buzz. It was Rafe. Tom snatched it up and answered. “Where is she?”
“In Sunnyside’s ambulance. I’m in pursuit—”
A crash made Tom wince. “Rafe? Rafe?”
Both Raeburn and Croft turned to him with twin expressions of confusion. Raeburn caught on first. “What have you done, Hunter?”
Tom didn’t answer. “Rafe?”
“Put the gun down!” a voice yelled.
“Police! You put your gun down,” Rafe yelled back, then in a more normal voice, he recited the numbers on a license plate. “That’s the plate on the ambulance he stole. Security just wrecked my SUV. I’m pinned against a rock wall. The ambulance is gone, but Belmont’s in it, along with Liza and Pastor.”
Tom had repeated the license plate numbers for Raeburn when a gun fired, followed quickly by a second shot. “Rafe?”
“I’m not hit,” he said, a car door loudly groaning through the phone.
“Our people are in pursuit of the ambulance,” Raeburn told Tom and Croft. “Are you talking to Rafe Sokolov?”
Tom nodded once. “Yes.”
Through the phone they heard Rafe shout, “SacPD. Drop the gun, asshole! Hands where I can see them! Do not push me, buddy. On your stomach. Do it. Now.” After a pause, Tom could hear the click of handcuffs and another groan from Rafe. “His badge says Saltrick.”
“He’s the chief of security,” Tom said dully.
“You hired your own muscle?” Raeburn demanded. “What the fuck, Hunter?”
Tom couldn’t hear Raeburn, his boss’s words not sinking in. “Rafe, are you all right?”
“Yeah,” Rafe said, breathing hard. “Your guys just busted through the fence. Saltrick’s restrained and he’s the only one I saw leave. Dammit. I almost had them.”
“You got us the ambulance’s plate. Call if you need me.” Tom stood, feeling Raeburn’s barely restrained rage but unable to focus on anything but his own paralyzing fear.
“Where are you going, Agent Hunter?” Raeburn demanded as Tom turned for the door.
“To bring her back, sir.”
Raeburn stood rigidly, shaking his head. Then gestured at Croft with a tilt of his head. “Go with him. Keep him from making this an even bigger clusterfuck.”
“Yes, sir,” Croft said respectfully.
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
TUESDAY, MAY 30, 2:00 P.M.
“Where are we going?” Liza asked, proud that she didn’t sound afraid even though she was. But she’d faced worse and knew that Tom was searching for her. She only hoped the FBI was no longer looking for the ambulance.
DJ had forced her from the vehicle, abandoning it behind what appeared to be a grocery store that had been closed for some time. He’d shoved her into a white Ford Explorer that had been parked, waiting for them.
He’d stolen this SUV the night before, or so he’d bragged to Pastor. He’d left it here, knowing he’d need something sturdier to get Pastor up the mountain roads.
He was probably telling the truth about going up into the mountains. They’d bypassed the interstates for a back road and were headed north.
“Eden,” Pastor rasped from the back seat. DJ had moved Pastor from the ambulance to the back of the stolen Explorer with care. Whether it was genuine care or not, Liza couldn’t be sure.
“We are,” DJ said amiably. “And since the Feds cut Pastor’s recovery short, you will be his nurse. I won’t abide by him getting poor-quality care. He’s too important to all of us.”
In the back seat, Pastor beamed. That was, apparently, the right thing to say.
Liza didn’t believe DJ, even if Pastor did. There was an oily quality to DJ’s words. He did not have Pastor’s charisma, for sure. It felt like he was pacifying Pastor. But why?
For the money, she realized. It almost always came down to money. Waylon had figured out Pastor’s cipher system for the banking codes, but DJ didn’t know it. If he had, she didn’t think he’d have stuck around. He’d have stolen the money for himself.
She also didn’t believe that DJ intended to have her care for Pastor. He’d likely kill her when he no longer needed a hostage. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him, though.
She’d been thinking through the various scenarios and how she could best buy the time Tom needed to find her. Mercy and Gideon believed DJ had lied to Pastor to stay in his good graces so he could get the money. If that was true, pitting the two men against each other might be the best strategy. It might get her killed, but she figured that was in DJ’s eventual playbook regardless of what she did.
“Then, as his nurse, I recommend you take him back. From what I’ve heard about Eden, it doesn’t have a lot of conveniences. Not to mention medical resources.”
DJ eyed her as they sped north on a rural route. “What do you know about Eden?”
Where to start? She sifted through all the information Margo Kitson had provided. “I know that it wasn’t supposed to be permanent.”
DJ laughed. “Who told you that?”
“She’s right,” Pastor said. “We were only going to hide there for a while.”
“And everyone but your father was wanted by the Feds,” she said. “So the founders stayed.”
“And exactly how do you know that?” DJ asked silkily. Dangerously.
Liza considered telling them about finding Pastor’s wife but decided to hold that card for later. “I have my sources,” was all she’d say. “But they were very informative.”
“Gideon and Mercy,” DJ spat. “They know nothing.”
“Gideon?” Pastor asked, confused. “And Mercy? They can’t have said anything. They’re dead. You know this, DJ. You took care of Mercy yourself.”
Liza turned to look at Pastor. “Did he tell you that?”
“Yes. Of course.”
Liza gave Pastor a pitying look. “Well, she’s very much alive. I saw her just last night.”
DJ’s face turned so red that Liza was surprised steam wasn’t blowing out his ears.
Pastor shook his head. “You’re mistaken.”
“She’s lying,” DJ stated flatly.
“She has a locket,” Liza said. “I’ve seen it. Inside is a photo of her—a baby picture really. She’s twelve and she’s with this guy named Ephraim Burton. Maybe you’ve heard of him?”
Pastor’s demeanor changed instantly from kindly grandfather to furious sociopath. “What are you talking about?”
“She’s lying,” DJ insisted. “And if she doesn’t shut up, I’m going to shoot her in the head.”
Liza drew a breath. I’m sorry, Tom. “I served in Afghanistan. I looked men in the eye who were a helluva lot scarier than you. You’re going to kill me anyway. I might as well take you down with me. He lied to you, Mr. Travis. He told you that he killed Mercy, but she survived. Waylon Belmont said he killed Gideon, but he lied, too. Gideon is alive and well. And DJ here has been trying to kill them ever since, so that you won’t find out.”
She recoiled when DJ’s fist connected with her temple. Pain exploded in her head and she breathed out a moan. God, that hurts. Still, she forced herself to continue.
“We know you have fifty million bucks in offshore accounts and that your banker is . . .” She glanced at DJ because he’d suddenly gone rigid. This made her smile through the pain. “I think that’s something Mr. Belmont doesn’t know. So that tidbit I’m going to keep to myself.”
Playing them off one another might be the only way to keep herself alive until the cavalry arrived.
Pastor eyed her cannily. “You don’t know, either.”
“His initials are D.P.”
Pastor’s eyes flashed with anger and Liza hoped Tom was pursuing Daniel Park with everything he had. “What else do you know?” he demanded.
“Lots. I’d tell you, but he’s going to kill me, so I’m not going to tell you anything more.”
“Did you know this, DJ?” he asked calmly, which was somehow more frightening than his angry voice. “Did you know that the Feds know about us?”
“He did,” Liza said, and then she frowned. “Where’s the woman? Sister Coleen?”
Pastor tensed. “You left her behind, DJ. What were you thinking? She’ll sing.”
“No, she won’t,” DJ said grimly. And if looks could kill . . .
He didn’t need evil looks, though. He had a gun. And possibly a bomb that he could detonate with his phone.
Pastor laid back, his shoulders sinking. “You killed her? Why?”
Liza remembered the woman mentioning the catching up she’d been doing. “All that news she was reading, probably. Did she see all the news reports on Mercy?” She shifted in her seat to meet Pastor’s angry eyes. “There are many, many reports. All you need to do is look online.”
“Who’s going to be our healer now?” Pastor asked. Then he smiled cruelly. “How about you, Liza? We’d have to keep you subjugated, of course. Can’t have you running your mouth to the community.”
“We threaten a kid,” DJ said. “She’ll do anything to protect a kid. Won’t you, Liza?”
Fuck. Divide and conquer just took a step back. “No. Many things, yes. Anything? No.”
“Just take care of our people,” Pastor said smugly. “And obey. And wear a locket.” His eyes brightened. “And marry me. Since my wife is now gone.”
Liza tried to think past the pounding in her head. This sucked. The thought of being Pastor’s anything made her sick. But it bought her time and that would have to be good enough.
Tom would find her. And in the meantime, she could help that girl whose baby was due any minute. Hayley. Her name was Hayley.
She forced her lips to curve. “And they say chivalry is dead.”
“She’s lying,” DJ hissed.
“About what?” Pastor asked mildly. “That she’s willing to be our healer? My wife? Or that Mercy is alive when you said you’d killed her?”
“Yes.” DJ’s jaw was taut and a muscle in his cheek twitched. “All of that. Every word is a damn lie.”
“Well. I don’t think she’s lying about Mercy, but you can easily fix that once we’re all safely in Eden. And then we’ll talk more.” Pastor closed his eyes, clearly exhausted. “As for our new healer, she’ll come to heel eventually. Get me home, DJ. I’m tired of all of this.”
DJ shot her a venomous look and Liza swallowed hard. Fantastic.
At least she was alive. For now.
SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA
TUESDAY, MAY 30, 2:25 P.M.
“Where are we going?” Croft asked.
Tom clutched the wheel like a lifeline. Because it was. It was taking him to Liza. “Eden.”
Motherfucking DJ Belmont. If he’s touched one hair on her head . . .
“Okay,” Croft said. “I’d question that, considering we don’t know exactly where it is. But you’re in a shitty headspace, so I’m gonna let it go. What will you do when we get there?”
Kill DJ Belmont. “I don’t know.”
“That’s honest, at least. Let’s plan some scenarios, shall we? Like we’re professionals and not driving like crazy people up State Route 70 because Eden is ‘somewhere up there.’ ”
The decision to take a back road had been Tom’s. He didn’t think DJ would risk sticking to the interstate. This road was the fastest way north other than I-5, and it cut through Yuba City, where DJ had owned a home. He’d be familiar with this road.
Tom wanted to snarl, but she was right. “Okay. Give me scenarios.”
“I will. But first, be straight with me. Is Liza your ‘friend’ or more?”
“More.” His voice broke and he had to clear his throat. “Everything.”
“Honest again.” Croft rubbed her temples. “You shouldn’t be here, Tom. Why are we here?”
“Because I’d go all by myself anyway, and at least you’re here with me to keep me from doing something stupid and clusterfuckish?”
“Fair enough. Scenario one: We can’t find Eden.”
No. His brain couldn’t accept it as a possibility. But it was valid, nonetheless. “We keep looking. I keep looking.”
She sighed. “You’ll give up your career to keep looking? Because after this, you’re not going to be allowed within a light-year of anything Eden.”
“Yes. I might have already given up my career anyway.”
“You’re not wrong,” Croft murmured. “Damn, kid. I was getting used to you, too.”
He really didn’t give a fuck, but he wasn’t going to disrespect her. “What’s scenario two?”
“I’ll throw you a softball. You find Eden, and Liza is there, but DJ has dynamite.”
“Attempt hostage negotiations. Protect the innocents. Bring snipers in to take him down.”
“That’s a good start. Scenario three: You get there and Liza’s not there, but DJ is and he won’t tell you where she is.”
“But she’s alive,” Tom gritted out.
“Yes.”
“Offer him the fifty mil. We could have taken it at any time. We didn’t for the same reason that we never mentioned Eden to the media—they would have known we were after them.”
“What? I mean, I knew you could have taken it, but you’d give it to him?”
“No. I’d offer it to him. There are lots of ways to do what appears to be a money transfer.”
“Huh. That’s actually not a horrible idea.”
“Thank you,” he said dryly, then braced himself. “And scenario four?”
“She’s dead,” Croft said quietly.
A wave of nausea hit him hard. “No.”
“Then pull over, because you don’t belong in this car.”
Tom gripped the wheel tighter. “Then I retract my answer and take the Fifth.”
She sighed. “That’s what I thought. You should drive faster.”
He was already driving twenty over the limit with his flashers going, but he sped up. “Which back roads will take us up to Lassen?” he asked. “And when do I have to choose a route?”
Croft checked her phone. “You’ve got till Oroville. Either you stay on this road and come at the caves from the west or cut across at Chico and approach from the east. Either way, there’s no easy way to get there from anywhere, and the thought that we’ll pass DJ on the way is like a fucking needle in a haystack.”
“You’d take a different route?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Carry on.”
They’d driven in silence for another twenty minutes when he got a call on his burner. It was the same number Liza had called him from after visiting Sergio’s tattoo studio. “Yeah?”
“It’s Gideon. Am I on speaker?”
“No.”
“Where are you?”
He didn’t even consider lying. He’d probably tanked his career, so what the hell? “Going north on 70.”
“Smart. Goes through Yuba City. He’ll know that route.”
“Exactly.”
“We’re going up I-5.”
“Who’s ‘we’?”
“Mercy and me. And Daisy, of course. We’re following the SWAT team. I tried to keep Mercy at home, but she insisted, so Daisy’s locked and loaded. Mercy and Daisy are wearing all the tactical gear I could get my hands on.”
Tom almost smiled. “Who gave you the tip?”
“Molina. I think we’ve corrupted her.”
Tom had to blink hard. His eyes were burning. “I knew I liked her.”
“This is our fight, Tom. Mine and Mercy’s. If you find him, if you find Eden, we need to be there. The people are unlikely to believe you because you’re the government. They’ll believe us because we’re not dead.”
“How’s Rafe?”
“Unhappy. Feds dragged him in for being where he shouldn’t have been. He’ll be okay, though.”
“Good. Full disclosure, I don’t know exactly where I’m going. Just north, toward Lassen.”
“I figured,” Gideon said. “We’re hoping we picked the same route that DJ did, right?”
“Exactly. Contact me if you see anything.” He ended the call and glanced at Croft.
She was shaking her head again. “Just tell the review board that you took that call when you stopped for gas and I was in the bathroom.”
“Will do.”
Tom drove for another twenty minutes before seeing a sign for Oroville. “Door A or B?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Tom.”
“Can you check on the status of the warrant for Daniel Park’s phone records?”
“Sure.” She made the call to Raeburn’s office while Tom drummed his fingers on the wheel. “Not yet,” she said when she’d hung up. “Judge is evaluating.”
Tom knew they had to follow due process, but he wished he’d hacked into the guy’s phone himself. He was debating having Croft drive so that he could do exactly that when her cell rang. She listened for a moment, then breathed a sigh of relief, thanking the caller.
“The agent on duty at the Sokolovs’ intercepted a package.”
“Bomb?” Tom asked, praying that the family and their agents were all right.
“Big-ass bomb,” she confirmed. “Bomb squad took care of it.”
He was still shuddering out a relieved breath when his cell buzzed.
“We’re fucking Grand Central Station here,” Croft groused as she glanced at his phone’s screen. “It’s a 33 international calling code. Is that where I hope it is?”
“France,” he murmured. “I think Angelina Ward taped my business card together.” He answered, putting it on speaker. “This is Special Agent Hunter.”
“This is Angelina Ward.”
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes, we are now. Thank you for asking. It was terrifying, honestly. I knew a cop was out there that night, but I knew Anthony wasn’t coming home. He’s good at anticipating trouble.”
She didn’t seem concerned that the agent had died. “You have a safe place?”
“Very safe.” She laughed, but it was a brittle sound. “I have two French police officers sitting in front of my house. Hopefully they’ll keep Anthony away if he decides to chase us.”
“You taped my business card back together?”
“Of course. I think you knew I would. Anthony had cameras everywhere. Having that man, that DJ Belmont, jump the electric fence and murder the three men Anthony left on guard . . . I saw him kill one of the men. I’ve . . . I’ve never seen anyone die before.”
Tom didn’t think he believed that. “How can I help you, Mrs. Ward?” he asked.
“You can catch my husband and put him behind bars so that I can sleep again.”
That he believed. “Can you tell me where he is?”
“Yes. Did you find my cell phone?”
Tom frowned. “Yes, ma’am. We found all your devices in a very neat stack.”
“I wanted Anthony to know I’d left for good if he found the electronics first. I can give you the password to my cell phone. I wiped everything but the app I used to track him.”
He shared a shocked glance with Croft. “You can track him?”
“Always have been able to. He never thought I was very smart. But I am. So do you want the password or not?”
“Of course I do. Please.”
“9-3-5-5-6-9. Spells ‘yellow.’ That’s also the password for the app.”
Croft noted it and gave Tom a thumbs-up.
“Got it,” he said. “Which app are you using? I’m not at the field office right now, so I don’t have immediate access to your phone.”
“FindMyCheatingSpouse dot com. User name is Angie W.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. We’re square now. You gave me a heads-up on Belmont. My kids slept in my bed that night. I kept the dog in my room, too, along with a small arsenal. I didn’t sleep at all. I was terrified. If you put that sonofabitch I married away, I’ll owe you another.”
Tom didn’t know what to say to that. “Have a safe day, ma’am.”
She ended the call and Tom slid his phone back into his pocket.
“Oh. My. God,” Croft breathed.
Tom glanced over to see her staring at her phone with huge grin. “What?”
She turned that grin his direction. “Guess where Kowalski is? You’ll never guess, so I’ll tell you. Here. On this road. About twenty minutes north.”
Tom blinked. “What?”
“He’s on this road. What’dya bet it’s a coincidence?”
“No such thing,” Tom murmured. “So Kowalski is following DJ?”
“He does have a score to settle.”
“But how did Kowalski know . . . Never mind. We can ask when we find him.”
“I’ll contact Raeburn and let him know. You drive faster. We need to get there before they kill each other.”
“And Liza.” Tom floored the gas.
TWAIN, CALIFORNIA
TUESDAY, MAY 30, 3:45 P.M.
This is far enough, DJ thought once they were roughly an hour past the last big town on the way to Eden. This route was very remote and he hadn’t seen another vehicle in at least a half an hour. There was a steep rock face to his left and a deep ravine to his right. There was also a pull-off with enough foliage to camouflage the SUV.
He rolled to a stop as close to the edge of the ravine as he dared. Edges sometimes crumbled, and he had no desire to go plummeting a hundred feet to his death.
Liza Barkley looked around, too alert for his liking. She’d served in the military, which meant she had fighting skills. She’d been silent ever since Pastor had informed her that she’d be their healer, seeming to accept that she wasn’t going to be able to turn them against each other, but he wasn’t going to take his eyes off her. She was trouble.
Of course, the damage was already done. Pastor had believed her about Mercy and the old man was unhappy.
Which doesn’t matter. Because neither Pastor nor Liza would live to see Eden. When he was done with Pastor, the old man would be dead and DJ would be fifty million richer. And he wouldn’t have to share it with the community or Coleen or Pastor’s damn banker.
“Why are we stopping?” Pastor asked sleepily, having just woken.
So I can kill you. “So I can pee.” He needed to get the lay of the land before he shot them. Dragging that drunk to the creek the night before had reinjured his shoulder. He needed to find a place to shoot them where he could just push them into the ravine.
And he really did need to pee, so there was that.
He was zipping up his jeans when he heard an approaching engine. “Shit,” he muttered. He hunkered down, waiting for the vehicle to pass by.
But it didn’t. It slowed down. And then it stopped.
Fuck, fuck. It was Kowalski’s Jeep.
Motherfucking Kowalski. He followed me. How?
Both front doors opened and DJ recognized the passenger as another of Kowalski’s minions. He and Kowalski strolled up to the Explorer like they owned it. The minion yanked Barkley from the front seat and Kowalski pulled Pastor from the back, holding the old man against his chest, a forearm pressed to Pastor’s throat.
What the fucking hell?
“Where is DJ?” Kowalski demanded.
“He went up the rock face to get a cell signal,” Pastor said weakly, and DJ was reluctantly impressed. Pastor didn’t bat an eye as he lied. His face was sheet-white and he was putting his weight on his unbroken leg.
“Fine,” Kowalski said. “I’ll deal with him later, wherever he is. Who’s the girl?”
“My nurse,” Pastor replied. “I’m quite ill.”
“I heard. You got hurt and DJ ran off to take care of you like a whipped pussy. He fucked up that night, Father.”
“It’s actually Pastor,” Pastor said, gritting his teeth, but still showing no signs of fear. “I’m not Catholic.”
Kowalski snorted. “Good one. He said you were his father. As in mother and father.”
“Oh. Well, that’s true. I had surgery, though, and you’re going to pop my stitches.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kowalski said sarcastically. “Let me be brief. I want you to contact your banker and have him transfer all your holdings into my account.”
Fucking asshole, DJ thought furiously. He’s stealing my money.
Pastor wheezed a chuckle. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m very serious. So serious that you’re really going to need that pretty nurse when I’m done—if you don’t cooperate.”
Pastor sobered. “You are serious. I’m just an old man. I have no money.”
Kowalski laughed. “You had three hundred fifty thousand dollars to pay Sunnyside Oaks. You never even blinked at the amounts. So you have a lot more where that came from.”
Oh, hell no. Who at Sunnyside had shared that information? DJ was going to find them and make them wish they’d never been born.
Pastor’s expression went cold. “You know a lot about me. I don’t even know your name.”
“You can call me Kowalski.” He drew a gun from his pocket. “I’m going to start shooting off your fingers and then your toes and then we’ll get really serious.”
“Can I have the girl?” the minion asked.
“I don’t care. But find Belmont first. He’s got a few things that belong to me.”
“He stole from you?” Pastor asked, sounding aghast.
“Yeah. He stole from me, then killed three of my best security guards. Dominic, put the girl down and find Belmont. You can take her with you later.”
“I’ll put her in the car in case the bullets start flying. I like my women alive and breathing.” Dominic grabbed a handful of Barkley’s scrubs and forced her to the back seat of the Jeep. He shoved her in and slammed the door before returning to the Explorer. He studied the dirt, evidently finding DJ’s boot prints, because he started walking his way.
DJ waited until he was close before dragging him behind the trees and shooting him twice in the head, ever grateful for his suppressor. He eased the body to the ground, then took the man’s cap and shirt. Dominic was about his size, so the dead man’s flannel button-up was a decent fit, the plaid pattern hiding the blood spatter. He’d snugged the cap on his head just as Kowalski called out.
“Where are you?”
“Comin’,” DJ grunted. He jogged through the foliage and around the Explorer, stopping behind Kowalski. “Couldn’t find him.”
Kowalski went very still. Then he dropped Pastor and whirled on DJ, gun drawn. “You bastard! You ungrateful little bastard. I taught you everything and you stole from me!”
TWAIN, CALIFORNIA
TUESDAY, MAY 30, 4:00 P.M.
Liza contorted her body so that she could reach her shoe. Raeburn had been good as his word, hiding that slick James Bond blade in the sole. Tom had made her practice retrieving it a few times that morning, and she was grateful for that now.
“You bastard!” a man shouted. “You ungrateful little bastard. I taught you everything and you stole from me!”
That would be the infamous Kowalski, she thought. Tom and Croft had been chasing him for nearly a week, and he’d just dropped into Liza’s lap. Lucky me.
“You tried to kill me!” DJ roared back. “I went to Stockton. I saw you.”
Yes, Liza thought triumphantly. She now held her shoe in her hands. She hoped her numb fingers could slide the blade free. DJ had pulled the zip tie really tight.
Two gunshots cracked the air, one after the other.
Luckily Dominic the Suave had given her cover. She assumed he was dead, having not returned from finding DJ. Hopefully they’ll kill each other.
Ignoring them all, she focused on the task as she’d done in the field, treating injured soldiers while bullets flew and bombs exploded around her.
“Of course I wanted to kill you!” Kowalski yelled. “You led the cops to me, you moron. And then you steal from me?”
Liza exhaled when the blade slid from the sole of the shoe. Thank you, Agent Raeburn. My own Q. She flinched when a bullet penetrated the Jeep’s windshield.
That was too close.
There had been no percussion before the windshield was hit. One of them had a silencer. Probably DJ. There’d been no audible shot when Dominic the Suave had gone looking for DJ and hadn’t come back, nor had there been when DJ had shot the ambulance driver at Sunnyside.
Gripping the ceramic blade between her numb fingers, she sawed at the zip tie, stifling a whimper when the blade cut into her finger. Ignoring the pain, she redoubled her efforts. They were still shooting at each other, but their conversation had taken a different tone.
“I heard you trying to steal from my father. How dare you? How did you even find me?”
“You’re a moron, Belmont. The rifles you stole were chipped. As soon as you left my house, I was on your tail.”
Which seemed like a lie to Liza. If Kowalski had known, he would have killed DJ already.
“You’re lying. You would have killed me already.”
Ha! She sawed harder.
“And I will,” Kowalski said. “Now that you’ve pulled your daddy out of Sunnyside.”
Another gunshot cracked the air, followed a second later by a scream.
Fuck you, assholes, she thought. Kill each other. Just don’t kill me.
The zip tie finally split, the pieces flying to the floor of the Jeep. Blood rushed into her hands and it was all she could do not to cry. Crying is a waste of time. Think.
She peeked into the front seat, her heart sinking when she saw that the keys were not in the ignition. She had three options: Hope they killed each other and didn’t come for her, try to hot-wire the Jeep and escape, or run. She didn’t trust that they’d kill each other and she didn’t know how to hot-wire a car.
So I’ll run. She tugged on the door handle, relieved when it opened. She’d been afraid that Dominic the Suave had locked her in. She hesitated. If they saw her, they’d shoot.
But they’d shoot anyway. Words she’d memorized in boot camp came flooding back. The Code of Conduct. If I am captured I will continue to resist by all means available. I will make every effort to escape.
“You will not harm my father!” DJ was screaming.
Another silenced bullet hit the windshield, shattering it.
Go.
She opened the door only far enough to slip out, then dropped to the ground and crawled to the rear of the Jeep. They’d come around a bend before stopping. She’d go back that way, and once she was hidden from sight, she could figure out which way was less likely to get her killed—up the rock face or down the ravine.
Her finger was bleeding, but it wasn’t too bad. She gripped the blade in her other hand and crawled into the grass. DJ had hidden in the foliage when he relieved himself. She could hide there, too.
She finally exhaled when she was concealed behind the trees. Go. Fast.
Crouching as low as she could, she set off at a half jog, half crab walk.
Dammit, Tom, where are you?
