“How about I put a bullet in her skull right now? Then how will you find your precious revenge?” Brown stepped forward and pushed the nozzle into her forehead again. Evie swallowed, fear freezing her thoughts. Her body.
“That’s better. I thought you might come around to my way of thinking. I get my cut. I just want what I was promised. You can have the girl.”
He hung up the phone, slipped it back into his pocket, and then grabbed Evie’s arm. He yanked her to the door and out onto the back porch. Her boat bobbed in the water, tied to the porch rail. It was still there.
Brown let go of her arm, but the gun he held didn’t waver. “Get on the boat.”
Her muscles pulled taut as a stretched rubber band ready to snap. Tremors threatened to overtake her entire body. She went out the side door, stiff and scared, and climbed into the boat.
Brown boarded behind her. “Drive. You know where we’re going.”
Evie headed into the covered cabin. Betsy was spotless. Metal. Dark green and brown. Familiar. Only now she wasn’t taking a pleasure cruise, she was driving to her doom.
The cab was lined with very small head-high windows. Bulletproof. The original 50-caliber had been removed and stored, but Betsy still had her machine gun mounted inside the cabin. Nothing and no one could see the weapon unless they boarded the boat without permission.
And no one boarded Betsy without permission.
She could open a hidden slot in the cab and slide the nozzle out if needed. The middle of the boat opened into a hidden compartment more than capable of hauling a very large load of weapons.
How was she supposed to get out of this?
“I said get going,” Brown said.
Evie turned and gave the sheriff a frown. “I can’t until you untie us from the porch.”
He stepped forward, instead of back, and grabbed her jaw. “You sass me again and I’ll make sure you suffer. Got it?”
Evie managed a nod and Brown let her go for long enough to untie the boat. Evie worked her jaw, making sure she still had movement in the joint.
She spun back toward the wheel and turned the key. Betsy turned on with one try. Smooth and predictable.
The boat was a small gun ship that had been perfect for taking out enemies down a river or canal in Vietnam. Maybe it would help her take care of her own river rats.
Brown’s boots clanked on the metal floor. He grabbed her hair and ripped her head back. “Just because I can’t kill you–yet–doesn’t mean I can’t cause you serious pain.” He yanked back to emphasize his point. “Got it?”
Evie ground her teeth together. “Got it.”
Brown all but threw her against the steering wheel and Evie had to grab it to keep from falling. Pain, sharp and instant, punched her side. She gasped and hunched forward.
Brown stalked off and patrolled the edges of the boat.
When she could breathe again, she flicked on the overhead lights and steered Betsy away from the bar. The water was littered with all sorts of obstacles. Limbs, hub caps, yard decorations. She drove through huge clumps of debris at a speed beyond sanity, all the while keeping her eye out for killer trees.
She had to hurry. If they didn’t get to Marcus within thirty minutes, he would start in on her mom.
Evie forced the threatening panic attack down and increased the boat’s speed. Betsy could take a little damage. She had to.
Her gaze fell on the small glove box hidden beneath the steering wheel. Holy crap. C.W.’s pistol. He held a firm belief in keeping himself and his vehicles armed.
“You remember the last time we were at Marcus’s lodge?” Brown moved closer.
Evie scrambled to think. When?
“If I remember correctly, you were a big hit that night.” Brown was right behind her now. His hand sliding up her hip.
Revulsion turned her stomach. Evie’s grip could have crushed the steering wheel. She remembered all right. Most of it, anyway. The last half of that night had been masked in total blackness.
“I remember how beautiful you were.” Brown’s voice was right at her ear, sending a chill down her spine.
Evie eased toward the glove box and turned the latch.
“How bad I wanted a turn instead of just being the camera man.” Brown bit her neck. Hard. Evie gasped and thrust her hand forward. Her fingers wrapped around the butt of a pistol.
“You know what? I think Marcus has held out for long enough. It’s my turn. Right now. Shut off the boat.” Brown’s hand slid to her breast and tightened. She struggled to keep from dry heaving as she slowly pulled the gun to her stomach. Then she turned the boat off.
“You’re right. It is your turn.” Evie spun around in a quick motion and raised the pistol. Brown’s weapon was still holstered at his side.
“You know what I remember about that night? I remember how you laughed when he hurt me. How you egged him on.” Evie took a step forward. “I remember the humiliation.”
Brown edged backward and held up his hands. “Now, Evie. Calm down. I was just playing.”
“Playing?” She was on the verge of hysteria, but she didn’t care. This man had been there for almost half of her beatings. Her torture. And he’d enjoyed every minute.
And he’d killed her father.
Her finger tightened on the trigger. Brown’s gaze fell to the gun and he swallowed. “You shoot a law officer and you’ll be on death row.”
“Not if they don’t find your body.” Evie took another step forward. And another. Brown’s feet shuffled backward.
She didn’t miss the quick glance he gave to his pistol.
“Don’t even think about it.” She kept a few feet between them. “Turn around.”
“Your gonna shoot me in the back?” Brown said. But he turned anyway, his hands slipping down to his sides.
“I mean it, touch that gun and I’ll put a bullet in your head.” Evie aimed at his back. She didn’t want to kill him like that. It would be way too easy. But she would if he gave her no choice.
“You won’t do it. You’re too soft hearted.” Brown kept edging his hand down toward his gun.
“You killed my father. I will kill you. I have the video, the evidence. Thanks to you. I know where Marcus is keeping my mom. The way I see it, I don’t need you anymore.” Evie held ready. Waiting on him to move. She didn’t need to tell him she’d lost the phone.
“What do you want?” Brown asked.
“I want you off my boat. Right. Now.”
“You’re crazy. I get in this water, I’m as good as dead.”
“It’s a chance. It’s more than you gave my family.” Evie answered. Her hands clenched tighter around the butt of the gun.
“Let’s talk about this. I can help you. I can get rid of Marcus for you,” Brown said, his voice groveling.
Evie smiled. “Now that’s just how I like my men. Begging.”
Brown stiffened and she knew she’d struck deep. “You bitch.”
Brown’s hand fell to his pistol. He spun around so fast she couldn’t think. Gunfire exploded and Evie fell back.
31
He’d gone to Maxine’s. Found it empty. Now Hunter was parked behind his dad’s truck in front of The Wharf. The door was open, but it was empty.
His fist slammed into the vehicle’s back door. “Dammit.” He shook his hand, blood trailing from his knuckles. He’d left a dent in the new metal.
“You should save that for the bad guy.” Hoyt approached, Jared and Hank following right behind him. The moon was tucked behind the clouds again, and there were no vehicles on the highway this close to the river. The river kept moving, her rushing water filling up the night.
“I’m just warming up,” Hunter said.
Headlights appeared on the road. Ranger. He parked his bright red truck on the shoulder behind Hunter and got out.
Hank lifted a spotlight overhead and surveyed the slope from the highway leading down to the river. “I see a pair of boots.”
“Lights on at The
Wharf,” Hoyt chimed in.
Hunter didn’t wait, but ran down hill, stopping just above Evie’s discarded boots. “Shit. Dad, shine that light on the bar, see if you can make out a boat.”
“No boat, but I can see someone moving around in there.” Hunter was in the process of kicking off his boots when Ranger’s hand fell on his arm.
“Hey, instead of doing this the hard way, why don’t we just take that?”
Hunter followed Ranger’s pointed finger to right below the bridge, where a shiny Bass Tracker Pro had floated.
Hunter took a deep breath. He had to get his head on straight. Thinking like this, or not thinking, was what got people killed.
“Thanks, bro,” Hunter said.
“You good now?” Ranger asked. His brow was raised, but the look in his eyes was understanding. And damaged. They shared a connection few others could conceive of and Hunter knew how bad Ranger was hurting right now. Probably more than Hunter. But his brother had sucked it up and thought of the mission first.
And so would Hunter. “Yeah. Let’s move.”
They loaded onto the boat and Hank steered them to the front door. Hunter grabbed the porch rail, tied them off in a makeshift anchor, and all five men climbed onto the porch, guns ready. “Me first, then Ranger. Jared, Dad, you take rear. Hoyt, keep watch.”
Hunter knew his dad would chafe at being left outside, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t letting him walk in blind.
After slamming a shoulder to the door, Hunter burst inside, gun held high, his team right behind. He scanned the room quickly, took in the disarray, and then saw C.W. sitting back on a couch in the corner, legs spread, head tilted back with a Ziploc bag of ice pressed to his eye.
“Figured somebody’d show up sooner or later.” C.W. didn’t even lift his head.
“How do you know we weren’t gonna shoot you, old man?” Ranger holstered his gun and Hunter did the same.
“Cause I knew it was you. And I know what you’re here for.”
“How the hell did you know it was me?” Hunter asked and crossed the room to squat down in front of him. “Jared, come check him out.”
Jared was not only one of the best marine snipers on record, he was also a top-notch medic. He approached and lifted the ice from C.W.’s face and let out a low whistle. “Bet you got one hell of headache.”
“I’ve had worse.” The old man’s eyes were black and small in his wrinkled face, but they were also intelligent and cunning. And his gaze was narrowed on Hunter. “So, you wanna tell me what the hell you’re really doing here? Because you sure as shit didn’t come back to make up with my granddaughter.”
Hunter felt all eyes fall on him. Hunter rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, unsure of what to reveal and at the same time awed by C.W.‘s vigilance. But at this point, he didn’t care.
“We’re here because Marcus and Brown are trying to move a load of weapons and they’re setting up the MRG to take the fall. They want to use your bar to launder the money. And Evie to transport.”
C.W. didn’t move. Didn’t look surprised. “Shit. I didn’t see Marcus, that weasel, but his little lackey Brown was here waiting.”
Hank, who’d joined them in the main room once it was clear there weren’t mercenaries awaiting them, took off through the kitchen only to return a few seconds later. “She’s gone. The office is trashed.” He turned to C.W. “Did you hear him say where they were headed?”
Had Hunter thought the man’s eyes were black? Now they were like pitch-black holes of death. “You need to tell me right now-did you make a deal with Marcus?”
C.W. wiped the blood out of his eye. “If you’re looking for me to feel guilty, you’re gonna be lookin’ a long time. Me and Maxine made the deal with Marcus. We told him we could move his shipment. But no one else knew we did.”
“You son-of-a-bitch. You know what he did to Evie and you worked with him anyway?” Hunter said, his tone harsh, his voice loud. He stalked forward, towering over C.W., ready to shake the old man until his bones snapped.
“You think you know what’s going on, but you don’t. So sit down, shut up, and listen, if you want any chance of getting my girls back.”
C.W.’s command stopped Hunter in his tracks. That wasn’t the tone of a beaten man. “You’ve got two minutes.”
“I figured out Marcus was responsible for Tom’s murder. He and Brown set my boy up. Maxine knew too. We made the deal with him for revenge. We planned to steal the drugs and turn him over to the FBI. No one else knew. But then he involved Evie and our plan went to shit. That’s why me and Maxine were here tonight, figuring out what to do next.” C.W. held Hunter’s gaze, unflinching.
“Drugs? He is moving goddamn weapons to a radical terrorist.”
“Shit,” C.W. let out under his breath.
“How do I know you’re even telling the truth? That this wasn’t some big money-making scheme gone wrong?” Hunter said.
“You can ask our FBI contact. He was the one who got in touch with us in the first place.” C.W. placed a gnarled hand on the sofa armrest and rose on shaky feet. “I haven’t heard from him in a few months, but he was the one who helped orchestrate this whole thing.”
“And just who is this agent?” Hunter said.
“He went by Mr. J.”
32
“Mr. J?” Hunter echoed.
What the hell? Why would his mentor, his coach, have set up a sting connecting the MRG and Al Seriq without telling anyone? Why would he have endangered Evie that way? Mr. J was one of the few men who knew about her and how much leaving her had torn Hunter up inside. And pretending to be FBI?
Mr. J had fed Task Force Scorpion information. He’d taken care of his team. Hell, he’d been the one to form TS-F. To set up their last mission. The mission they’d lost Shane.
“He was dirty.” Ranger spoke first. Hunter was still stuck between the hard place of knowledge and the rock of disbelief.
“Yeah, weird fella. Always wore sunglasses. Black hair. Beard. Real quiet. But he had credentials and I can tell an agent when I see one.”
“Not agent, old man, operative. Mr. J was our CIA contact. We found him dead over three months ago,” Hoyt said.
Three months of torture and guilt…only to find out Hunter’s mentor was a traitor.
“You must be wrong. Mr. J made us. Made me. He wouldn’t have betrayed us to the one man we’ve been hunting.” Hunter tried to reconcile the idea of Mr. J as a traitor, but couldn’t. He could see him laughing, pushing, driving them forward. Relaxing on a fishing trip. Grabbing a six-pack on his down time.
“Wore this big black ring on his right hand. I wouldn’t have paid it much attention, but it ain’t normal for men to wear rings,” C.W. said. “I take it he didn’t plan on intervening at all. Well, hell’s bells, you can’t trust anyone these days.”
Hunter wanted to deny the truth. Deny that a man who was almost as close as family had sold them out. But a huge ax of evidence was wedged into his chest.
“He must have been the one funneling the weapons all along. He knew he could use the MRG to move more weapons,” Jared said.
“He knew I would turn a blind eye to Mercy.” Betrayal, swift and sharp, nearly cut Hunter in half.
“So he kept us busy. Too busy to figure it out.” Ranger said.
“When did Mr. J make contact?” Hunter’s revelation was quickly morphing into rage. His hands shook.
“Over a year ago. Shit like this doesn’t happen overnight.” C.W. grunted and then walked to the bar. He grabbed a whiskey bottle, twisted the cap off, and took a swig from it like it was water.
“Look, boys,” Hank interjected, “we have to move, or it won’t matter. Marcus isn’t the kind of man to keep people around who have betrayed him.”
“You’re right. We need to figure out where he would have taken them.” The cold hard truth was that Marcus had Evie. And Maxine. And he would hurt them.
Rage, familiar and welcome, flooded into Hunter’s veins.
Forget betrayal. Mr. J was dead and rotted. Hunter cared about one thing–Evangeline Videl.
“I know where we need to go.” C.W. took another slug of whiskey and then slammed the bottle down. “But we’re gonna need a boat.”
Hunter glanced at Ranger. “We’ve got one.”
“Good. Let me get my knife.” C.W. went back to the couch, dug a hand in between the cushion and armrest, and pulled out a knife the size of a man’s arm.
“Looks more like a sword.” Hoyt snorted.
C.W. smiled and turned the knife in his hand before sliding in into a leather holster strapped to his thigh. “I’ve found the Bowie knife can accomplish more than a gun in close combat. It’s silent and can slice a man’s head off his neck in one motion.”
C.W.‘S grin spoke of experience. But the man had to be in his seventies, no way he was going with them. “Listen, C.W., I appreciate your experience, but I think it would be better if you let us handle it.”
“I was killing before you were out of diapers, boy. No way am I staying behind when my girls are in danger. Save it. Besides, I know where we’re goin’. And you don’t.”
Shit. He didn’t have time for this. He could move his team undetected. Just like always. But not if they didn’t have a destination. “We’re gonna need another boat.”
*
A few minutes later, Hoyt and Jared returned with a second boat in tow. This one was even better than the last. “Found it just upriver, still bobbing on the rope.” Ranger jumped out and tied it off on the porch.
Jared throttled behind in the Bass Tracker. “This thing costs more than my freaking truck. I hope whoever owns it doesn’t mind, but I’m taking her.”
“That’s John Redman’s. Don’t worry. He got extra insurance on it.” C.W. and Hank climbed in with Hoyt.
Jared pulled up and Hunter and Ranger loaded in with him. They could move twice as fast on the water with less weight. “C.W, where we headed?”
“Five miles that way.” C.W. pointed downriver.
“That’s closer to the freaking dam,” Hank said, his voice carrying over the water as if he were right next to Hunter.
Redemption River Page 21