by Debra Kayn
Knowing what he'd gone through and the fear he continually lived with, she was surprised to discover how strong of a man he was in the traditional sense. He used his muscles, his ruggedness, his love for the outdoors to better his life. But, when she found him living in a bunker, tapped out with security so that he could sleep each night peacefully, his existence broke her heart and softened her toward him.
She saw past the history contained in the file and admired the man in front of her.
"We're going to need to know how you got the file." Mark set the folder on the top of a shelving unit holding five-gallon buckets of dehydrated food and remained standing in front of her. "There's no room for lies, Carly. You've put me and the others in the position of believing you're here to kill us."
"I would nev—"
He held up his hand, cutting her off. "I'm not interested in hearing your opinion on anything. I need the truth to the questions I'm asking."
She pressed her lips together. He wasn't the only one scared to death or worried about losing a life.
"How did the file end up in your hands?" he asked again.
Concentrating on him, she pretended the other two men weren't in the bunker. It was the only way she'd be able to answer.
Telling the truth meant she'd need their help first, and they'd all have to act fast.
"I can't tell you," she whispered.
Mark's gaze intensified. "If you don't answer, you're not getting the file back."
"You don't understand." Her chest squeezed. "I would give up my life to have it back. L-let me have it, and I'll leave. You'll never have to see me again."
"I can't—"
"Mark, please." She stood, approaching him.
He looked away from her. She touched his arms, needing him to pay attention to her and not the others. She'd given him no reason not to trust her. But, she couldn't...she wouldn't say anything until she talked to her mom.
Time was running out. If she didn't make it home soon, all her work would've been for nothing.
"You're not going to let me go if I don't tell you, are you?" she whispered.
He shook his head, his gaze closed off. She swallowed, unable to fault him for protecting himself. Not knowing what they planned to do with her and knowing that killing her would be the easiest way to make sure the information wasn't shared with others, her whole body shook.
"I took the file from my mom," she said quietly.
The confession zapped all her strength. The years of holding everything inside, trying to find an answer, an escape, weighed her down.
All the nights she'd poured over the information contained in the file, hoping these were the men who could help her, came down to that moment. The confidence she had in them wasn't present in the room. She'd become their enemy.
She'd messed things up. Closing her eyes, controlling her emotions, she inhaled. No, he messed things up.
"I need your promise that you'll help me before I tell you any more," she said.
His gaze swept back and forth between Quint and Anders. Finally, he looked at her. "Explain."
There was life behind his eyes. He hadn't shut her out. She could see the interest, the concern, and maybe even the worry. Trusting that he would help, she inhaled deeply.
"I need to get my mom on a flight out of Albuquerque immediately." She squeezed his arms when he tilted back his head, drawing his attention back to her. "She's going to expect me to arrive home in the next couple of days. If I'm not there to protect her...I'll need to get her out of New Mexico. She can't be there alone. Not now."
Mark's phone rang. He turned away and answered.
Shaking, Carly glanced at the others. Quint and Anders stood by the door as if keeping her hostage. She couldn't blame them.
They weren't only keeping evil out, they were keeping her in, protecting themselves.
Mark disconnected the call and looked at her. "Why does she need to be protected?"
They weren't the only ones who had someone else to protect. She'd do anything for her mom.
Believing in Mark, she raised her chin. "Because she's just like you. She was kidnapped from a state orphanage by the same men you were."
Mark's gaze whipped to the others. Carly shook. By telling the men in the room, she'd either found a way to save her mom or her mother would end up dead. It all depended on if Mark helped her or not.
"Bullshit," said Quint behind her.
She turned around. "I'm not lying."
"You've read the file. It would be easy to save your own life by making up a story to draw sympathy from us." Quint tapped his pack of cigarettes against the palm of his hand. "You've lied before."
"But, I haven't." She looked between the men, settling on Mark. "I do work for an investment firm. I am from New Mexico. Okay—I didn't come here for research in the way I mentioned. My reasons for coming were personal. I needed to find out if the reports inside the file were true. You think you're the only ones who are living in fear, thinking each day is going to be your last? You're not."
Her voice had raised. Her desperation showed.
Trembling, she sat on the couch and hugged her middle. It'd taken years of planning for her to come to the Bitterroot Mountains. She thought there would've been time but finding the dog in her car was her warning that her whole trip had been for nothing.
She needed to go back home to save her mom's life. If she failed to get back home in time, the only one who would pay for her coming here was her mother.
Unless she could get her mom on a plane and get her away from there.
She'd tried everything to convince her to leave before, but her mom had held on to the files like a lifeline, hoping one day that the good would win over the evil. Afraid to risk putting Carly in danger, her mom took all of the sadistic punishments handed out.
"How is your mom in danger?" asked Anders.
Frustrated, she wished there was more time to convince them. "You're asking me things I've kept secret in order to protect my mom. She hasn't had an easy life. Those stories inside the file—"
"They're not stories." Anders thumped his chest. "That's our lives. We've fought for everything we've had, and it will never be enough."
Quint's gaze narrowed. "Unless you've lived through what we've experienced, you can't compare what we've gone through to your mother...who obviously had you by her side. If that's even true."
Crushed, she let the tears roll down her cheeks unchecked. They would never understand that while her mom had her and she wasn't alone, she was still a prisoner.
Mark squatted down in front of her. "How are we supposed to believe you?"
Since the day everything about her life started making sense, and she'd planned her mom's escape, waiting for the day her mother gave her consent and allowed her to make contact with the men in the file, she would break her own rule and share her secrets.
"Because Michael Jaster stole my mother and kept her for himself since she was fourteen years old," she whispered.
Mark flinched, holding her gaze. "How do you know this?"
She raised her chin, all the evil in the world settled on her shoulders. There was no hiding, no secrets, no turning back.
"Because Michael Jaster is my father."
Chapter 16
Mark tossed a pair of clothes in a duffle bag and set an extra pistol in a locked safety box on the top. Taking the box of ammo from Anders, he zipped everything inside and tested the weight. He chose to fly privately to remain able to protect himself.
"Did Hank call back?" Mark carried the bag to the stairs.
Anders followed him. "He said he would take off in forty minutes."
"Good." He took the steps two at a time. "What about a car?"
"You'll contact a man named Cory Brown, he'll be there at the strip. He's got the key for you to use one of the loaner vehicles."
The three of them, along with Carly, came together and organized the whole trip to Albuquerque within a couple of hours. He walked down the hal
lway. If only they could predict what Jaster was going to do with the knowledge that his daughter was staying with one of the men he wanted dead.
Knowing Jaster left the dog in Carly's car as a message of his unhappiness with her being on the mountain, they couldn't risk Evie, her mom, taking a commercial flight. They had no idea if Jaster would beat them back to New Mexico or not. They had to take the fastest route and hire Hank Gorman, a local small-aircraft pilot, to get Mark there and bring him home safely.
Carly turned from the window in the house. Since he agreed to go get her mom, she'd barely held herself together. He recognized the guilt battling inside of her from telling her mom's current situation, but she'd done the right thing by telling them the truth.
It'd only taken a few seconds for the shock to wear off him. Evie was one of them. Kidnapped by Jaster as a child, she was alone and needed help. While Carly's mom's experiences with Jaster ended differently, her terror was just as real and a constant in her life.
"You'll go with Anders to the Lair." He dropped his duffle at his feet and lifted Carly's chin, meeting her gaze. "Quint's wife, Katelynn, will be there too, plus Iliana, Anders' woman. Make sure you stay upstairs. I don't want you to even go downstairs for food."
"I'll make sure she stays safe," said Anders.
Mark nodded, knowing he could trust his friend. No one could predict what Jaster would do next if he felt threatened or at risk for his past coming out.
Carly handed him a piece of paper. "Here are the directions to the house."
"You didn't let your mom know I was coming, right?" He studied Carly.
After more talk, he'd found out Jaster kept a guard on the house, preventing Evie from coming and going when he was out of town. Unlike her mom, Carly lived a rather free life with little rules which gave her the ability to travel to the Bitterroot Mountains. She'd chosen a time when her father was scheduled to be gone from home, making sure he wouldn't follow.
Little had she known that Jaster was in the Bitterroot Mountains and witnessed her making contact with him and the others.
"My mom's not going to know what is going on when you show up." Carly's brows pinched together. "She's going to be scared of you."
"I'll make her understand," he said.
She nodded. "Be gentle with her. She has her reasons for being frightened."
"I will."
Carly threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. "Thank you for going and getting her."
"Don't thank me yet." He knew the risks.
If Jaster predicted the steps they were taking, there was a chance of him making it to Albuquerque before Mark. He could be walking into an ambush.
"If I could go with you, I could keep my mom calm and—"
"It's too dangerous." He held her in front of him, forcing her to listen. "I'm trusting that everything you've told me is true. Now, you're going to have to trust me."
She never blinked. "I do."
"Can you give me something of yours that your mom will know belongs to you?" he asked.
She frowned and looked around the room as if she forgot where she was. "I don't have any—yes, I do. In my purse."
"Quint?" Mark looked behind him. "Get Carly's purse for her."
He handed his duffle to Anders, who'd take him over to the runway at Hank Gorman's spread only ten minutes away. Depending on nothing happening between here and there, he wanted to get into the air before Jaster realized where he was going. He'd asked for an hour on the ground in Albuquerque, and luckily Hank found a landing strip only fifteen minutes from Evie and gained permission to land. That gave him less than thirty minutes to get into the house, secure the premises, and convince Carly's mom to get on the plane with him.
Quint returned and handed Carly her purse. She dug through the contents. Her movements jerky and fast, unlike the way he was used to seeing her move. But she was hanging in there.
He and the others had imagined the worst when the file Carly possessed came into play. But Carly swore on her life that nobody had seen the information, except for her mom.
He needed to keep it that way. Her original plan to go back home, take all the information to the police and ask them to arrest Michael Jaster was foolish, if not immature.
Men like Jaster eluded the law. He'd somehow get away with his crimes. Or, he'd murder Evie and Carly before they could get help. He had no doubt the man would kill his own daughter.
"You can take this." She worked her keyring in her hands and thrust the item out to him.
He looked down and broke out in a sweat. She'd given him a keyring with a small glass dog hanging from a chain.
He held a fucking dog in his hand.
"She gave me the keychain for my sixteenth birthday and will know it came from me. It's a replica of the dog I had when I was a child. Her name was Ginger," she said.
He shook his head, not needing the reason, the name, the history, and pocketed the item. He was having a hard enough time wrapping his head around the idea that he was attracted to Michael Jaster's daughter. The dog in his pocket burned the thought into him that he could be making the biggest mistake of his life by going after Evie. His life had no room for more danger involving Jaster.
And, taking Jaster's woman and his daughter would be signing his own death certificate.
Carly touched his arm. "Mark?"
"I need to get going." He wiped his hand over his forehead. "Listen to Anders while I'm gone. He'll keep you safe."
She nodded, following him to the door. "T-tell my mom that everything will be okay and I'm waiting for her."
He turned around and looked into her eyes. One thing was true. She loved her mother.
He'd never had that devotion and love in his life, and he found himself wishing he could have a fraction of what she was feeling.
"We need to go." Quint clamped his hand on Mark's shoulder. "Hank won't wait."
Dragging his gaze away from Carly, he felt for his shoulder holster, reminding him of the job he had to do. Then, he walked out the door.
Chapter 17
Michael Jaster lived in a mammoth one-story terra-cotta house on sprawling property lined with a wrought-iron fence on the outskirts of Albuquerque. Sweating from the heat and the task at hand, Mark adjusted the flannel shirt he'd thrown over his T-shirt to hide his pistol.
Carly had warned him there were cameras at the gate, but if he announced he was there to visit the barn, he'd be buzzed in. From there, he would need to cut over to the back of the house and enter through the kitchen, which remained unlocked for the employees to come in from the barn.
Per Carly, the man inside guarding her mother usually sat inside the west wing of the house where Jaster handled his business while Evie resided in the east wing.
He drove up to the gate and rolled the window down. Pushing the intercom button, he said, "I need to go to the barn."
The gate hummed before it slid apart. He drove forward, looking for any evidence that Jaster had returned home before he'd arrived. Unfamiliar with the routine of those accustomed to working around the house, he willed his body to relax and not stand out. It would do no good to step out of the car, soaking with sweat and looking nervous.
He parked halfway between the house and the barn. Exiting the car, he walked around the front bumper and wound his way through a courtyard lined with red pebbles. Dogs barked behind him. He stopped, searching the area.
Afraid the animals were loose within the fenced property, he panted through the tightness in his body. The tunnel vision coming on him at the sharp yips and loud commotion made it impossible to see the whole area. Knowing he was wasting time and he couldn't afford to stand around outside and draw attention to himself, he moved forward on shaky legs.
Out of his element with the sandy soil under his feet, the lack of trees, and the sun beating down on his shoulders, even the dry air reminded him of his years of containment in Mexico. He focused on what was ahead of him. There was another person inside who'd suffered
at the hands of Jaster. He wouldn't leave her behind.
Approaching the back of the house, he spotted two doors. Carly had only told him about one. Without breaking stride, he chose the door closest to him hoping he wasn't making a mistake and security alarms would go off.
Entry into the house depended on how much time it would take the guard to spot him on the camera. He needed to get the upper hand and take the man out. Only then would he have a chance to make contact and convince Evie to come with him.
He wrapped his fingers around the door handle and turned, feeling the latch open. Slipping inside, he paused, getting a feel for the house. He'd entered through the west wing.
Following the side of the room, he left the kitchen, listening for any movement from deeper in the house. He removed his gun, making each step as quiet as possible.
He turned down a hallway. The sound of voices reached his ears, and he stopped, straining to hear. After several seconds, he recognized the banter as something on television. Creeping up to the open door, he peeked into the room and found a man sitting on a couch, his back toward him.
He'd found the guard exactly where Carly suspected he'd be.
Knowing a gunshot would bring others into the house, he quietly undid his belt and slid the leather out of the loops, thankful for the volume of the TV covering the slight sound. He slipped his pistol back in the holster and wrapped the ends of the leather belt around both hands, leaving enough slack in-between.
Inhaling deeply, he bent at the waist to keep his reflection off the screen on the wall and glass windows and rushed toward the couch. The man turned his head.
Mark slipped the belt over the man's head and tightly pulled the leather strip around the guard's neck, cutting off the exclamation of surprise coming out of his mouth. Pulling back, he put his weight into keeping him on the couch as he cut the man's breathing off.
The guard struggled, his lower body flopping on the couch, fighting against the strangulation. Mark put all his weight behind keeping the pressure on and focused on all the men who'd Jaster had sent after him in the past. All the men who'd made sure he couldn't escape captivity. All the men who'd forced him into the dogfights. All the men who'd stolen his life from him.