by Hope Anika
Blue Ridge, Population 2368.
Sam felt his skin tighten, and in his chest, his heart beat a little harder. That feeling of ominous portent again washed over him, but moving forward was their only choice. So he turned the ATV down the road, incredibly glad it was only six-thirty in the morning.
“It was an easy decision,” he continued, and looked up to meet the kid’s gaze. “You’re going to have to decide, too.”
The boy only stared at him.
“We all have to decide who we’re going to be,” Sam told him softly. “And being the oldest, it’s up to you to set the example. Like it or not, Ben’s going to follow your lead. You can’t forget that, son. Not ever.”
A shuddering breath escaped Alexander, and he looked down at Ben. Daisy was curled into a ball in Ben’s lap, and Alexander reached out and stroked her. “I know. He’s really sick, isn’t he?”
“Sick enough. But we’ll get him to a doctor.”
They traveled in silence for several minutes, and the sky continued to lighten, revealing thick white clouds that blanketed the surrounding mountains in mist. They passed several ranches and as they entered town, a row of manufactured homes and a Quick Stop. Further down, Sam spotted the Jeep, parked in the side lot of a fat, squat metal building that bore a faded orange sign that said Blue Ridge Auto Body.
“There’s our ride.” Sam pulled into the shop’s lot, grateful it was dark and still and set back from the road. He steered the ATV toward the sleek, dark blue four-wheel drive, license plate number 1T34790, which sat tucked within a row of other SUVs, and parked. On the right-hand side of the Jeep’s back window, a rental sticker glowed bright yellow.
Good. Because chances were, a rental wouldn’t be missed quite so quickly, and at least they weren’t stealing some poor, hardworking soul’s only vehicle. Sam turned off the ATV, told Alexander to sit tight, and climbed out to inspect the Jeep. He really didn’t want to bust a window; maybe Blue Ridge was as trusting as Canyon Falls, and by some miracle it would be unlocked with the key just sitting in the ignition—
He was right next to it when the vehicle suddenly started, and the door locks disengaged with a loud clunk. Sam halted, staring at it, his heart beating too hard in his chest.
His phone beeped, but he didn’t have to look at it.
Goddamn kid. He could almost hear her laughing at him.
He went back to the ATV. Lucia was awake, blinking at him sleepily, and Ben was stirring as well. Alexander looked at the Jeep, then at Sam.
“How did you do that?” he asked, his voice hushed.
“I’m just that good,” Sam told him seriously. “Everybody up and out. We need to go.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Isabel stared out the window of the Eagle County Sheriff’s Department where the wind gusted at nearly sixty miles an hour, threatening to shred the flags that hung from the pole in front of the building. Signs rattled violently, trees bent from the force, even the windows trembled. Rain flew sideways, so thick visibility was less than twenty feet, and the lights overhead flickered uncertainly. Cell service was down, so the tablet in her lap was silent, and Tony had disappeared to find a landline to call his Lieutenant.
Tony. You are a brilliant, wonderful soul.
Over the course of her career, Isabel had heard many accolades. Words that praised her tenacity, her courage, her fortitude. But never her spirit. Never that inexplicable force which had pulled her from the dark, bloody pit of her childhood and impelled her to survive. The one that drove her to be better, to be more. To save those she could, no matter the price.
But Tony saw that essence, inside, far deeper than the twisted flesh she’d been so scared to reveal. He looked into the core of her and smiled. He shared his need and his adoration openly, fearlessly, something she could only admire. And his concern—
When we happen, there will be no fear. We’re not there yet. But we will be.
No one had ever put her first. Ever. She didn’t know how to respond. No one took care of her; she took care of them. To be on the receiving end…scared the hell out of her. Because she liked it. Because that alone had shattered the foundation of the wall she’d spent years building, and without that foundation, the wall fell, crumbled ruins around her feet. And she didn’t give a damn.
She wanted him, and to hell with the consequences. It was a shocking realization.
But those consequences… They had the potential to be devastating. Would it be worth the risk? In her life, she’d risked many things. Her badge, her reputation, her freedom. Her life. But somehow this was different…and she knew, no matter how many hours she spent debating it, tallying the pros and cons, that she would only discover the answer when she succumbed to the question.
Jump, demanded the child. Hide, advised the scarred and battered survivor. But she didn’t want to hide. She’d spent too many years hiding the truth of who she was, the remnants of the fire which had forged her. She was tired of existing only within the darkness. She wanted to step into the light.
Ultimately, she had to trust—not just Tony, but herself. To let go. And let it be.
“What are you thinking about?”
Isabel started and looked up to find Tony standing in the doorway, watching her.
“Nothing important,” she said. “What did Lieutenant Forks have to say?”
Tony frowned, and she knew he would press her later, but only replied, “Plenty. There was much swearing and many threats. He’s pissed about the videos. He thinks we leaked them.”
“He said that?”
“He didn’t have to.” Tony shrugged. “He’ll get over it. It was a necessary evil, and he knows it.”
Yes. Isabel wondered if Lucia Sanchez was yet aware of the videos and the chaos they’d generated. Of the arrest warrant that had been issued for Donavon Cruz and his currently unknown whereabouts.
The GPS signals of the Cruz boys that had gone quite abruptly online that morning just outside of Blue Ridge, Idaho while she and Tony were still a hundred miles south of the Sawtooth National Forest had disappeared just as abruptly less than twenty minutes later, and had yet to reappear. Isabel wondered if Aequitas was responsible for that, or if it was simply the weather. Wireless service had been spotty all day, and added to the terrain they’d traversed, wholly unreliable. They’d followed the directions of Bob Peabody, west through the Magic Valley, utilizing the same farm roads he and Kent had taken north and had arrived in the Blue Ridge valley just before noon. The valley was small—only thirty miles long before the mountains again closed in—and a mere fifteen miles wide. The small town of Blue Ridge contained a handful of motels, four restaurants, two gas stations, three bars, and two churches. Blue Ridge Ski Resort was the town’s sole source of income in winter, and in the summer months tourists fished the narrow ribbon of the Salmon River and hiked the surrounding wilderness. A small, close-knit mountain community, one Lucia and Sam and the Cruz children would not be able to hide in for long.
Provided they were here at all.
Because the GPS locators were no doubt embedded in the skin of the Cruz children, it was unlikely they’d been removed, which meant that either something—or someone—had interfered in the signal, or Sam and Lucia had figured a way to jam it. Either way, it left everyone in stasis—her, Tony, Special Agent Kent, and Bob Peabody. Never mind the Eagle County Sheriff, Nate Thomas, who was less than thrilled by the invasion of the federal government into his town.
“Signal still quiet?” Tony asked, walking toward her, and Isabel looked away, down at her tablet, painfully aware that the beast he’d awakened the night before was stirring. That she was so distracted by him—by this inexplicable thing between them—was ludicrous. Laughable. And had anyone ever suggested that such a thing could happen, she would have shut them down with vicious proficiency.
Unarguable evidence of your humanity. And surely a double-edged sword.
“Yes,” she confirmed when she realized how closely he was watching her, s
eeing things with that warm hazel gaze he shouldn’t.
“Damn.” He halted next to her, put his hand on the back of her chair, and leaned down to nuzzle her ear. “You look hungry.”
Heat curled into her cheeks, and Isabel glared at him, but he only laughed, a low, husky sound that made her skin prickle in awareness. Before she could respond, Sheriff Thomas walked into the small room he’d reluctantly provided them, followed by Special Agent Kent and Bob Peabody.
Thomas appeared annoyed, Kent looked stressed out, and Bob Peabody, unsurprisingly, held a large glazed donut in his left hand.
“We have four agents stuck in Salmon due to the landslide north of Clayton,” Kent said wearily, his face tight with strain. “For them to go around will take an entire day. If we could just utilize a few of your people for the search—”
“My ‘people’,” Thomas repeated, clearly exasperated. A short, stout, gray-haired man with a thick, bushy handlebar mustache, the Sheriff wore his badge next to the large PBR belt buckle that held his Wranglers in place and leaned heavily on a slender cane made of walnut. The Ruger tucked into his holster gleamed in the pale light. “Look around, Special Agent. How many ‘people’ do you think I’ve got? This department has three full-time officers—of which I am one—and two part-timers. My dispatch also handles fire, search and rescue and runaway livestock. I have no ‘people’ to give you.”
“Sheriff—”
“You don’t even know that your girl is here, and there’s a thousand square miles of wilderness out there. Like looking for a needle in a haystack. Good luck with that.”
“USI84 is in ruins—east and west, and there’s nothing but desert to the south.” Kent halted, his hands on his hips, a muscle ticking in the hard line of his jaw. Behind him, Peabody took a bite of his donut. “We’re certain she headed north—into the National Forest—and she’s going to need food and supplies. Blue Ridge is one of the few places she can get those supplies.”
“The valley isn’t that big.” Tony turned to look at Kent. “You go north, we’ll go south. Shouldn’t take too long to cover most of it. Then we’ll worry about heading into the backcountry.”
Kent scowled. He was pale and exhausted, and for a moment Isabel considered whether or not they should share their current intelligence with him. Because Kent had no idea the Cruz boys had been tagged by GPS trackers, that he was far closer than he realized, and that as soon as the GPS signal again appeared—if it did so—they would have the exact location of Lucia Sanchez and the children she’d stolen.
But what would happen to Lucia when they arrived at that location was a question that had yet to be answered, because regardless of the warrant issued for Cruz—or what he was guilty of—Lucia was equally guilty of felony kidnapping. And probably child endangerment, as well. So the fewer armed agents around when she was apprehended, the better. And while Isabel didn’t think Peabody would shoot first, she wasn’t sure about Agent Kent. He was young, and an unknown. And if Tony’s friend Sam was anything like Tony, he would deliberately put himself between Lucia Sanchez and the agents hunting her.
Clearly, this situation would require careful management.
“Great,” Kent muttered. “Four people isn’t shit. We’re a lot more likely to miss something.”
“Sheriff?” A narrow, young, pimple-faced deputy suddenly stuck his head into the room. He glanced at Kent and Tony, then Isabel. Color flooded his cheeks when she met his gaze.
Thomas turned to him with a sigh. “What is it, Joshua?”
“A call came in, sir.”
“And?”
“It was Miss Mable.”
Another sigh. “And?”
The deputy glanced at Kent and Tony again, clearly hesitant.
“Just spit it out, boy,” Thomas ordered. “We’re all on the same side here.”
“Yes, sir. Miss Mabel said some folks checked in this morning from out of town.” Joshua’s cheeks grew deeper red as everyone in the room turned to focus on him. “A man, a woman, and two boys. She thinks it’s them, the ones everyone’s looking for. And she said someone else had just showed up, and that she thought...” His voice trailed off.
“Thought what?” the Sheriff demanded.
“That shit was about to get real, sir.”
Beside Isabel, Tony suddenly shrugged into his raincoat. Her pulse fluttered when he took her elbow and gently tugged her to her feet. Kent was already moving.
“What kind of shit?” Thomas demanded.
Joshua only shrugged. “She just said we’d best get over there.”
“Over where?” Kent wanted to know, his tone hard.
“Mabel’s Mountain View Inn,” Thomas muttered. “It’s over on—”
“I drove past it,” Kent said and strode out the door.
“Get the rig,” Thomas told Joshua.
“Yes, sir.”
The deputy disappeared. Isabel grabbed her tablet, and Tony ushered her toward the door Kent had disappeared through. Behind them, Bob Peabody swallowed his last bite of donut and hurried to keep up.
“Finally,” he said. “Some action.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
He didn’t even touch the Jeep, and it started.
Sam Steele, Deputy U.S. Marshal, fire-starter, ass-kicker, and, apparently, wizard.
Lucia shook her head. She didn’t know what Sam had done or not done—she’d been asleep—but Alexander was convinced Sam had “hacked” the vehicle they’d stolen, something Lucia hadn’t even realized was possible. And something that scared the hell out of her.
A car could be remotely controlled? Who thought that was a good idea?
It sounded like an invitation to disaster—and she would know.
Of course, Sam, being Sam, continued to insist he was “just that good” when Alexander demanded the truth, which made Lucia want to laugh, something she hadn’t done in…forever.
He could be charming when he chose, which disarmed her; charm was something she was unprepared to defend against. That wicked smile, that intense and captivating focus. He’d tempted her when he hadn’t even been trying. Now that he was…
Ay, yai, yai. You are so screwed, chica.
“Are you almost done?” Alexander yelled through the bathroom door. “I’m hungry.”
Yes, yes. They’d checked into the Mountain View Inn earlier and rented one of the small cabins. Then Sam had grabbed Daisy and Ben and left to take Ben to the Emerge-A-Care clinic in town and to find parts for the device he was going to build to jam the signal from the GPS trackers. Trackers. The idea of it both horrified and infuriated Lucia, and her desire to lop Donavon Cruz’s head from his body only grew.
We never had a chance. The deck had been stacked from the beginning, and if it were not for Sam…
“We would be dead,” she muttered grimly. And she knew it was not only Sam who’d saved them; it was Tony as well.
The jerk.
“Lucia!” Alexander rattled the locked door handle. “Come on.”
“In a minute, mijo,” she retorted. “I am changing my bandages.”
Silence fell. Lucia looked into the mirror, at the ugly wounds Ivan had left. So many marks. Many of which would scar. And his bites—
“Breathe,” she ordered softly. “Just breathe.”
Because there was nothing to be done for them except to survive. To heal and go on. And Sam had done a surprisingly good job patching her up; she only had to redo two. She’d wanted a shower desperately, but nothing good would come of trying to stand under a cascade of hot water with half a dozen open wounds. No, a sponge bath was the best she could get, at least until her skin mended further. Maybe tomorrow. But she wasn’t holding her breath.
She was just grateful to be alive. To have the boys safe, and for Sam. Even though she hadn’t wanted him—had tried to save him from this—and even though she knew she couldn’t keep him…she was glad he was with them. Hers. If only for one brief, fleeting moment.
Lucia would take what she
could get.
She sighed, applying the last of the butterflies to the long, ugly gash on her belly. She tossed the wrappers and pulled Sam’s flannel back on, comforted by the scent of him surrounding her.
I know you were alone, Lu. But you’re not alone now. I’m right here.
A truth he’d proven again and again: on the side of that freeway, during the storm that had destroyed Canyon Falls. Over the course of every mile they’d traveled. He’d made sure they were warm and safe and fed. He’d killed to protect them.
How could she doubt him?
She couldn’t. And that had forced her to recognize that in all of the years since Elian and her mother’s deaths, she’d chosen to be alone. That the bleak reality of being on her own had been something she’d donned willingly, an albatross she’d worn in effort to combat the grief that choked her still. Because it simply hurt too much to care. But that determination flew in the face of her very calling—to heal, to care more than anyone else, to have the most personal stake in another’s survival—and those two certitudes were wholly paradoxical and could not co-exist. No, she was going to have to choose.
To give all that she was. Or not.
That had always been true. Sam…Sam had simply pointed it out. Unknowingly, perhaps, but that didn’t make the realization any less profound. And what was happening around her couldn’t matter. This was an understanding beyond circumstance; a reality she must address in order to be true to herself. So that she could then be true to everyone else.
And if she were to reach out and take Sam’s hand…to believe…she would have to give up the fury that burned within her, a silent homage to the loss she’d suffered. Her friend. Her fuel. Because it was far easier to be angry than to mourn. To rage against the evil that was so prevalent in the world; to hate. Healing felt like a betrayal.
But that rage had done nothing but hurt her—and by extension, Alexander and Benjamin—and it was no example to leave them with. Because Alexander already had enough rage within him. Enough hate to fill an entire ocean. He would have to witness her trusting another so that he might do the same. He had to believe, too.