Beyond Power

by Connie Mann

  “Yet here we are, with the cops looking for you. What happens when they find you? How long will it take before you tell them everything they want to know?”

  “Give me a break. I don’t plan to tell them a thing.”

  “Except I don’t trust you not to spill your guts, so you are going to sit down right now and write a confession.”

  “Confession?” Benson sputtered. “What am I supposed to be confessing to? This is ridiculous.”

  “You will say that you killed Black, you were working alone, and you couldn’t live with the guilt.”

  The voice was flat, completely matter-of-fact, and Josh suddenly knew who it belonged to. Aaron Atwood. Was Delilah in there, too?

  “I will do no such thing,” Benson retorted.

  “If you write the note, your death will be quick and painless. But if you don’t—” There was a pause. “It’s up to you, though. I don’t care either way.”

  When Benson started sputtering, Josh turned his radio to silent to avoid giving himself away and raced along the side of the cabin. Backup or no backup, he had to get inside.

  He reached the back porch and quietly crossed to the door, relieved when the knob turned under his grip.

  “I’ll disappear. You’ll never hear from me again. I’ll never breathe a word to anyone.”

  There was a brief silence. “Make your choice. Now.”

  Josh crossed the small kitchen and burst into the living room. “FWC! Hands where I can see them!”

  Benson sat at a wooden table, his back to Josh, and he swiveled around in surprise. Aaron stood opposite, knife in hand. His eyes flickered, and Josh dove for the floor milliseconds before Aaron’s knife embedded itself in the wall behind him.

  As Josh scrambled to his feet, Benson leaped up just as Aaron upended the wooden table and raced for the door.

  “Stop,” Josh shouted. He ran after him, but Benson stepped in his way, grabbed his arm.

  “He’s lying. Whatever you heard—”

  Josh shoved him aside and barreled through the doorway. Aaron was already in the pickup.

  Josh shot out two of the tires, but Aaron didn’t slow, just spun the truck around and took off into the forest. Josh raced down the porch steps after him, but Benson blocked his way again.

  “Look, you have to believe me—”

  Josh leaped around him and took off running, but because of this bumbling idiot, he’d never catch Aaron. He radioed Hunter a description of the truck before he hurried back and handcuffed Benson. “Sit.”

  He checked the rest of the property, but there was no sign of Delilah. Several minutes later, Hunter arrived and admitted they hadn’t been able to intercept Aaron’s truck, either. Perfect.

  If his frustration wound any tighter, Josh knew he’d explode. “I’ve got to go,” he said as he shoved past Hunter.

  The minutes turned to hours and ticked away like a giant metronome in his head, but despite his best efforts, there was no sign of her. Not at Hamm’s place or anywhere else. He raced around the forest in ever-widening circles, banging on doors, waking people from sound sleep, demanding someone tell him where the Atwoods’ campsite was. John Henry was the only one left who could help him. But his search netted nothing. Nobody would tell him a thing.

  The sun was just peeking over the horizon when he swerved so far off the road, he almost hit a tree. He pulled over and lowered his head to the steering wheel, willing his exhausted brain to come up with something, anything. He didn’t know what else to do, where else to look, who else to ask.

  He glanced up at the lightening sky. “If you’re listening, we could sure use a miracle down here.”

  But he couldn’t wait for that, so he put the truck in gear and got back on the road.

  Stay tough, Xena. I will find you.

  He’d never give up until he had her safely back in his arms.

  * * *

  A trickle of sweat dripped down Delilah’s face as the morning sun heated the tiny cabin. Her wrists burned from fighting her bindings, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t break free. There had to be another way. She couldn’t let them marry her sister to that lecher.

  A beam of sunlight slipped past the edge of the curtains, and it lit something halfway under the bed. What was that?

  Her phone! Nate must have tossed it on the floor.

  All she had to do was get there. She started rocking the chair back and forth, back and forth, sliding it across the wooden floor inch by agonizing inch. She was panting before she’d moved six inches, but that was six inches farther than before.

  Hang on, Mary.

  She rocked harder, trying to hurry, and yelped when the chair tipped over and she crashed into the side of the dresser. She lay there, stunned, her shoulder screaming from the impact.

  Time passed as she struggled to keep moving the chair, inch by inch, but she still couldn’t reach her phone. She froze when a key turned in the lock. Footsteps crept across the floor, the door eased open, and a face appeared above her.

  She blinked, sure she was seeing things. “Mama? Is that really you? What are you doing here?”

  Mama crouched beside her and started untying Delilah’s wrists, clucking at the damage. “We don’t have much time.”

  “How did you know I was here?” The abandoned hunting cabin hadn’t been used by her family and their friends for years.

  “Nate’s been acting mighty strange lately. But last night, he went too far, said some things that made me worry for you.” Mama untied the last binding and helped her up.

  Delilah grabbed her phone as they hurried out.

  Mama motioned her onto the floor of the cab of the truck. “Best if no one sees you.”

  Delilah was done hiding, but that was a battle for another day. “Where’s Mary?”

  Mama hesitated. “She’s already there.”

  Delilah took the work-worn hands in her own. “Where, Mama? Please.”

  Another pause. “Mooney’s Pond.” She held up one end of a tarp. “We need to go. I’ll take you to your truck.”

  Delilah checked the time on her phone. 11:55. “What time is the wedding?”

  Mama swallowed hard. “One o’clock,” she whispered.

  Delilah climbed in and ignored the heavy weight of the tarp. “Thank you, Mama.” How had she known where Delilah parked her truck? Had she been the one following her?

  None of that mattered now. Against all odds, her mother had come to her rescue.

  But Mary wasn’t free yet.

  She tossed the stifling tarp aside and called the local newspaper. “Casey Wells, please.”

  “Wells. How can I help you?”

  “This is Delilah Paige Atwood, and if you’re interested in a big scoop that will splash your byline everywhere, you need to listen closely.”

  After she hung up with Wells, she called the television station in Orlando that had shown the least biased reporting on the monkeys, introduced herself, and told them the same thing she’d told Wells. “I’m going to stop a sixteen-year-old girl from getting married—which is not only against the law but against her will, mind you—to a guy in his forties to cement some kind of militia alliance. Bring a chopper. Wedding is slated for 1:00 p.m.” She gave the location and hoped they didn’t dismiss her as a crazy person.

  Thirty minutes later, Mama stopped the truck. Delilah gathered her close and froze when Mama winced. She studied the ugly bruise she had tried to hide and then cupped her shoulders. “Oh, Mama. Come stay with me.”

  Mama just shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. “I need to go or I’ll be missed.”

  Delilah wanted to plead, but she bit the words back. This was as far as her mother could go. “I love you, Mama. Thank you.”

  “I love you, too, baby girl.” She kissed Delilah’s cheek and climbed back into the truck. />
  “Wait. Will you take the long way back? Stall for a little while, for Mary’s sake?”

  They looked at each other for long moments before Mama nodded. “I’ll do what I can.” Then she put the truck in gear and drove away.

  Delilah hopped in her truck and grabbed her phone to call Josh. She hadn’t wanted Mama to overhear this conversation, afraid she’d report to John Henry, who would instantly send everyone into hiding.

  This ended now.

  Today.

  * * *

  Exhausted, frantic, and buzzing from caffeine, Josh turned into the Corner Café, hoping maybe Liz or Donny Thomas’s mother, Patty, who worked there part-time, or some other customer could help him. He didn’t know what else to do. He was out of options, and desperation was making him crazy.

  His phone buzzed, and he almost rear-ended another car when he saw Delilah’s name. He slammed his truck in park as he fumbled to read the text.

  Wedding is at Mooney’s Pond. 1:00 pm. Meet me there.

  He stabbed in her number, desperate to hear her voice, make sure she was really okay, but the dreaded recording came on, telling him she was out of cell range.

  He checked his watch. He had just enough time to get there if he burned rubber the whole way. He called Hunter and floored the gas pedal.

  Chapter 36

  Nerves hummed under Delilah’s skin as she eyed the pickups parked in the grassy area ahead of her. There were easily twice as many as there had been at the campfire. Surely, they weren’t all here for Mary’s wedding. Then she noticed the targets on the far side of the pond. Right. The militia gathering people had been talking about that night. Which meant every man present would be armed.

  As Josh had previously, she parked at the end of a row so she could make a quick exit, then grabbed her knife from the glove box and slid it into her pocket. She wished she had her Glock, but this was better than nothing.

  She spotted Wells several rows away, accompanied by a long-haired guy toting a professional video camera. Wells smoothed a hand over his wrinkled dress shirt and attempted to straighten his clip-on tie as she approached.

  “Thanks for coming.” She didn’t like the guy, but necessity made strange bedfellows. “Stay out of sight and wait for my signal. I don’t want to do anything to spook the crowd. They’ll all be armed.”

  Wells exchanged glances with the videographer, then nodded. She wanted to deliver more warnings, but movement on the platform caught her attention.

  She threaded her way to where the crowd gathered in chairs and sprawled on blankets facing a makeshift platform by the pond. There had to be over a hundred people. The men wore camo gear, weapons on their hips, the women the usual long skirts, and children scampered about. She wasn’t surprised to see Nate, Eli Foster, and John Henry on the platform, but where was Aaron? And what were John Henry and Nate arguing about?

  She was searching for Mary when Mama suddenly appeared, slowly making her way toward the platform, eyes darting around nervously. The crowd shifted, and Delilah finally spotted her sister standing off to one side. She wore a long-sleeved, high-necked white bridal gown, a spray of cheap carnations held in shaking hands.

  Everything in her wanted to burst from the tree line and spirit her away, but she took a calming breath and bided her time. She needed the element of surprise.

  John Henry scowled at Mama and then at Nate, who ignored him as he walked to the portable sound system and smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you’d take your seats, we’ll get started.”

  The hellfire preacher who’d terrified Delilah as a child marched up onto the platform, Eli beside him.

  Delilah scanned the area, heart rate kicking up. She still hadn’t seen Aaron.

  Pastor Robbins repositioned the microphone. “Marriage is a sacred institution,” he began, and Delilah’s palms started to sweat.

  Nate motioned to John Henry, who took Mary’s arm. Her sister flinched, then scanned the crowd, panic etched in her features. Delilah searched the trees behind her again, but there was still no sign of Josh or the rest of the squad.

  Robbins pulled out his Bible. “In Genesis, we read…”

  Delilah tuned him out and watched Wells and his videographer inch closer and then heard a telltale thwump thwump faintly in the distance. She spotted the chopper, closing in fast.

  “…and so it shall ever be,” she heard Robbins say. “With these words in mind, dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

  Delilah couldn’t wait another second.

  She marched up onto the stage and faced Eli, whose eyes flashed at the sight of her.

  Shocked gasps rippled through the crowd.

  She glanced down and saw her mother’s encouraging nod, then winked at Mary.

  “What are you doing here?” Nate demanded. Dressed in camouflage gear and an ammunition vest, he looked ready to go hunting. Eli Foster was also in camo, minus the vest.

  Delilah lifted her chin and raised her voice. “I’m waiting for the part where the preacher asks if anyone has any reason to object. Because I definitely do.” She met Nate’s furious gaze. “As does the bride.”

  The videographer inched closer, his camera on his shoulder.

  She turned to Eli. “I warned you at the Mayor’s Ball, but you wouldn’t listen. Mary is sixteen years old, and she doesn’t want to marry you or anyone else right now. And she’s not going to.”

  “You can’t walk in here and tell us what to do,” Nate hissed.

  “Oh yes, I can.” The helicopter popped into view beyond the tree line, and the crowd gasped, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. “What you’re trying to do is not only wrong, it’s against the law. And just so we’re clear”—she nodded toward the videographer, then the chopper—“cameras are rolling.” Delilah speared Nate with a furious glance. “How successful will your secret militia be once everyone knows you force young girls into so-called marriages for the sake of your alliances?” She held out her hand to her sister. “Come with me, Mary. You don’t have to do this.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence as Delilah walked toward her sister, whose eyes widened before a shy smile spread across her face. John Henry glared at the cameraman.

  Two steps before she reached her sister, Mary shouted, “Behind you!”

  Delilah spun around as Nate made a grab for her.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Wife? You should be at home, as I requested.”

  She sidestepped him, fury in every line. “Requested? You tied me to a chair!”

  The helicopter moved closer, camera visible through the open door.

  “Tell them to turn the cameras off.”

  “Not going to happen. Mary will get married when she decides to get married. Today is not that day.”

  Delilah kept her eyes on Nate’s, so she was ready when he growled, “You’re mine,” and lunged for her again.

  She waited until his hands reached for her neck, then brought her foot up and kicked him in the balls with everything she had. She landed the shot perfectly, and he dropped to the ground and whimpered, curled in on himself.

  Delilah propped her hands on her hips, breath heaving as she glared down at him. “I am not your wife. I never was.”

  Josh approached from the trees, his weapon steady on Nate. He stepped onto the platform, deadly calm. “Get up.”

  Nate shot daggers at Delilah as he slowly stumbled to his feet, muttering curses. Once he was upright, Josh holstered his weapon, pulled his arm back, and punched him in the jaw with enough force to toss him back on the ground. “That’s for Delilah.” When Nate tried to get to his feet again, Josh growled, “This time, stay down.” Then he turned to Delilah, grinned with pride. “Nice going, Xena.”

  She smiled back. “About time you got here, Hollywood.”

  As Josh issued instructions, a flash of movement cau
ght her eye, and she spotted Aaron heading straight for Mary. “Oh hell no,” she muttered and ran toward him. She intercepted him before he could grab her sister and yelled, “Run, Mary!”

  That quick glance toward her sister was all it took for Aaron to wrap his arm around Delilah’s neck from behind and put a gun to her temple. “I won’t let you ruin everything.”

  He spun her around as a shield, and she saw Josh walking toward them, weapon raised, voice hard. “Drop the weapon, Aaron. It’s over.”

  “This is an important alliance, a movement for liberty. The government has no right to intervene.”

  “We do when the girl is underage and you’re here with a crowd of people and piles of illegal weapons,” Josh said. Until that moment, Delilah hadn’t even noticed the open weapon crates in front of the platform.

  Worried murmurs passed through the crowd as Hunter, Sanchez, and Fish approached from different directions, all with their weapons drawn.

  “Drop your weapons or I’ll shoot her. I mean it,” Aaron warned.

  Delilah’s heart pounded, but she kept her eyes on Josh, waiting for some signal, some way to help him. She knew he couldn’t fire without risking shooting her by mistake.

  His gaze never wavered. “Last chance, Atwood. Let. Her. Go.”

  The crowd shifted nervously, several men reaching behind their backs. In the distance, they heard sirens.

  Hunter raised his voice to be heard above the murmurs. “We don’t want anyone hurt. Put your weapons down and stay seated. Hands behind your heads. Now.”

  “I’m leaving, and she’s coming with me. Try to stop me and I’ll shoot her!” Aaron shouted.

  As he started dragging her backward, Delilah suddenly remembered an escape trick he’d taught her when they were children. She turned her head and bit down on his bicep, hard.

  “Ow!” As he shifted his grip to shake her loose, she dropped straight to the ground and stayed in a crouch. She heard a shot, then Aaron stumbled backward and fell.