by Paula Graves
Which wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, she realized, scanning the swampy woods ahead of her for any sign of familiar territory. She’d run into the gator near a fallen oak tree, she remembered, mistaking the moss-backed reptile for tree root sticking out of the water until he’d snapped at her.
A fallen oak tree lay about thirty yards ahead, close to a watery bog. Was it the same tree? It appeared to be straight ahead, right in their path. If they passed it, was there a way to coax the gator to make another appearance?
Her shoes squished loudly in the mud as they walked. She hoped the alligator was listening.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Leo murmured behind her.
“Just trying to figure out what you really want.” She kept her eye on the bog beside the fallen tree. There was a grayish-green mass barely visible above the waterline. Was that her friend the alligator?
“I told your boyfriend what we want.”
“But why?”
“Can’t tell you that.”
The shape of the mass in the water looked about right. If she could just get Leo on that side of her when they passed—
“I’ve heard about the Coopers,” Leo said. “Our nemeses, I guess you’d say,” he added with a laugh. “Never heard anything about you, though.”
“I’m just a computer geek,” she said drily, edging closer to the bog.
“Why did they send you on this job, then?”
“It’s archiving. I’m an archivist.”
Now, she thought as they reached the edge of the water.
“Ow!” She stopped and bent, shifting to the side, away from the water.
As she’d hoped, Leo didn’t stop when she did, his forward momentum taking him halfway around her, perilously close to the bog.
The gator surged from his watery hiding place, jaws snapping.
Leo cried out, scrambling back. He toppled to his backside, dropping the frog gig. He also dropped his cell phone as he fell. It bounced off Shannon’s foot and landed right in front of her.
She scooped it up and started running.
A sharp report shattered the air behind her. She didn’t know if Leo was shooting at the alligator or at her. She didn’t stop to check. Splashing through the marsh, she zigzagged the best she could, seeking the cover of tree trunks as she wound her way north, deeper into the swamp.
The ground grew firmer soon, but she wasn’t any closer to recognizable signs of civilization. She could still hear the sounds of movement in the swamp behind her, but Leo was far enough away for her to stop and get her bearings.
The sun was gone again, dipping behind a dark band of clouds overhead. Rain had resumed falling, deepening the shadows in the woods around her.
She had no idea where she was. For all she knew, she might be just yards away from the shack from which she’d escaped. Ray and Craig might be close by, waiting for Leo to bring her back to captivity.
She looked down at the cell phone still clutched in her tightened fist. Sending up a silent prayer for a signal, she flipped it open and looked at the display panel.
No bars.
She hung up, slid the ringer to vibrate, and put it in her bra with the folding knife. If it rang, she’d feel it, even if she couldn’t hear it.
She listened carefully to the forest sounds, trying to discern between natural noises and any signs that Leo was headed her way. If he was moving toward her, she couldn’t hear him at all.
Maybe he’d gone still, listening for her.
She felt a flutter of confidence beating slowly but steadily in her chest. Driving a boat wasn’t the only thing she’d learned from her cousins as a child. Jake and Gabe, the best trackers in the family, had taken her under their wing and taught her all sorts of arcane things about moving silently through the woods. The swamp wasn’t exactly Gossamer Mountain, territory as familiar to her as the freckles on her face. But the same basic rules applied. Move silently. Be deliberate. Leave no signs.
And sometimes, the best camouflage was being perfectly still.
* * *
THE LAST THING Gideon expected to see when he took the Lorelei back to Nightshade Island was a sleek gray Bell 206L LongRanger sitting on the flat edge of the beach near the boathouse. Four large, broad-shouldered and dark-haired men huddled together near the side of the bird. All four turned at the sound of the Hatteras motoring toward the boathouse, and Gideon saw what their huddled bodies had hidden from his view: Damon North stood next to the helicopter, straightening his clothes with sharp, irritated movements.
Gideon bypassed the boathouse and slid the Hatteras up next to the external pier, looping a rope over the pilings. So these were the Coopers.
“Stone?” The speaker was a broad-shouldered man in his mid-thirties, with coffee-brown eyes and a perpetual look of suspicion in his even features. He was about four inches shorter than Gideon, with a steel-spined posture that pegged him as a former marine. His air of authority suggested leadership.
“Jesse Cooper,” Gideon guessed aloud. “I thought you were landing at the local airport.”
“We decided not to advertise our arrival.” The man who answered was a tall, rangy man in his early forties, dressed in camouflage pants and an olive drab T-shirt. He stood near the pilot’s door of the Bell helicopter. He must be J.D., the cousin.
Jesse Cooper got to the point. “Any word on my sister?”
Gideon dreaded what he had to tell the man. “I got a call from the man who has her. I know him only as Leo.”
A third man gave a small start. “Leo Reed?”
Gideon looked at him more closely. He was taller than Jesse Cooper, shorter than the pilot. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, well-built. He looked a little queasy.
This must be Rick Cooper, Gideon thought. The brother who’d worked for MacLear. “I don’t know.”
“It’s Reed.” Damon spoke up for the first time. “He’s the leader.”
The others looked at Damon, their expressions dark.
Gideon remembered the masked man he’d seen in the woods. The one who’d looked to be in charge. That must have been Reed. “What do you know about him?”
“He was regular MacLear,” Rick said grimly. “I worked with him on a few cases. Seemed straight enough.”
“Money is a temptress,” said the fourth person, a quiet man in his mid-thirties. Another former marine, he guessed. Shannon’s other brother?
As it turned out, it was a cousin. “Sam Cooper.” He nodded toward the others in order. “Shannon’s brothers Rick and Jesse and my brother J. D. Cooper.”
“You’re the one who married Natalie Becker,” Gideon murmured, looking at J.D. “Nice wedding picture.”
J.D. frowned, but Gideon didn’t have time to explain. He waved toward the boat. “She’s somewhere in a swamp. You can’t take the bird to get to her. We’ll go in the boat.”
“Leo told you where he was?” Rick asked, sounding confused, as they started moving toward the boat.
Gideon put his hand out and pushed against Damon’s chest as he started to follow. “Where is Lydia?”
Damon stared back at him, not answering.
Gideon tightened his grip on the front of the man’s shirt, rage flooding through him like blood in his veins. “Where is she?”
“She’s safe.”
Gideon balled his free hand into a fist, struggling with the urge to smash the man’s face until he bled. He controlled it, barely. “Where is she?”
“She’s with Quinn, isn’t she?” Rick’s voice cut through Gideon’s anger.
“Yes,” Damon admitted.
“Who’s Quinn?” Gideon demanded.
“CIA,” Jesse answered. “He won’t let anything happen to her.”
“CIA?” Gideon looked from Jesse to his brother, not missing the look of wariness in Rick Cooper’s eyes. “What’s going on here?”
“We know about the journal. Shannon told us about it.”
“What’s in it?” Gideon asked.
“We’re not sur
e,” Jesse answered.
Gideon didn’t have time to hash things out. Shannon was out there, somewhere, in the custody of a rogue mercenary willing to kill her to get what he wanted. The rest of the mystery—even the secret of what happened to Ford Ross—could wait until Gideon got her back.
“Watch him,” Gideon told the others. “I’ll be right back.”
He ran up the path, detouring to the caretaker’s house. Earlier that morning, before heading to the mainland, he and Shannon had locked the general’s coded journal beneath a pile of Gideon’s old Marine Corps memorabilia in Gideon’s footlocker. Shannon had tucked the journal inside Gideon’s ripped-up flak jacket, the one he’d torn off to make himself lighter for Ford Ross’s rescue attempt. It had been shredded by the shrapnel from the exploded grenade. It still had Ford’s blood on it, as well as his own.
She had looked up at him with solemn, haunted eyes. “So close.”
He’d cupped her cheek, bending for a swift, fierce kiss. Her hands had curled in the fabric of his T-shirt, holding him close as she kissed him back.
He shouldn’t have let her go.
He changed into camouflage gear, tucking the journal into the roomy pocket on the side of his trouser leg, and hurried back to the chopper.
“Get on the boat,” he said to the others, turning to pin Damon North with a dark look. “Except you. You stay here and stay out of trouble.”
“Don’t do this, Gideon. Don’t make a trade with the journal.”
Gideon ignored him, striding quickly to the boat.
The pilot, J.D., shot a warning look toward North. “Touch my bird and I’ll hide you and hang you up to dry. Got it?”
North grimaced but nodded. “Got it.”
The rest of them boarded the boat. Almost immediately, Rick and Sam flanked either end of the boat, while J.D. stood on the deck, watching Damon North with suspicion as they shoved off.
Jesse climbed up to the pilothouse with Gideon. “Did you talk to Shannon when Leo contacted you?”
“No, but I heard her.” He told Jesse what Shannon had said.
“Swamp could mean any marshy place, and there are dozens of those all along the coast.” Jesse’s tone was grim. “Where do we even start?”
Gideon didn’t know. He just knew he had to find her. She had begun to give him hope for a future he’d never thought he could have. Bit by tiny bit, her kindness and her show of faith in him had started to convince him he wasn’t doomed to become a monster like his father. He almost believed it now. Maybe he could be a good man, a loving man. A family man.
He’d already lost nearly everyone who’d ever mattered to him in this life. If he lost Shannon, too, there wouldn’t be anything left of him to save.
* * *
SHANNON HEARD A sound, out in the woods. Footsteps, moving with too much speed to remain quiet. She hunkered down in the little hiding place she’d found for herself, tucked between a fallen pine tree trunk and a scrubby stand of thick green shrubs she couldn’t identify. The ground beneath her was spongy but mostly dry. Her situation could be worse, she supposed, although it was hard to keep her spirits up with a stranger splashing through the bog just twenty yards away.
She dared a peek and spotted the man she now knew as Raymond moving as quickly as he could through the marsh. She looked around him, seeking any sign of the other one, Craig, but Raymond seemed to be alone.
She sat in utter silence until he passed out of sight. The sounds of the mud sucking at his boots faded into silence again.
She had to get out of here. Even if the SSU agents didn’t find her, she couldn’t just hunker down and stay awhile. Gideon thought she was in Leo’s custody. He’d be frantic with worry and guilt.
She pulled the phone from her bra and checked the signal. No bars.
She listened carefully for the slightest hint of human movement around her. There was nothing. The sounds of birds in the trees had returned, however, after going silent while Raymond splashed by.
She took a chance and moved from her hiding place.
No bullets whizzed through the air toward her. No burst of movement in the swamp around her as the hunter spotted his prey.
Overhead, the sun had broken through again, lower in the sky. That way was west, then. She decided to go north. North would take her away from the beach, but it would take her closer to inland towns that might boast a cell tower with a good signal.
She trekked about half a mile and stopped, pulling the phone out and checking the signal.
Her heart flip-flopped at the five shining bars on the signal indicator. A nice, strong connection, for the moment at least.
She didn’t have any idea what Gideon’s cell phone number was, she realized, but the last call on Leo’s phone had been to Gideon. Holding her breath, she hit redial.
Gideon answered on the first ring, his voice steely with rage. Engine noise hummed in the background. “Yes?”
“It’s me,” she said, as softly as she could.
“Shannon?” Gideon’s voice broke. She heard an exclamation somewhere on his end and recognized her brother’s voice.
“Is Jesse there with you?”
“Yes. Where are you?”
“I got away but I’m lost, and Leo’s somewhere out here. He has a gun and a frog gig—” She managed a wobbly grin. “I ran him into a gator and got away. He dropped his phone so I grabbed it.”
His voice grew stronger. “Crazy, brave girl.”
“I’m still in a swamp. I don’t know where. Maybe close to town, maybe a long way away. I was out for a little while and I woke up in a car trunk, so I didn’t get my bearings—”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.” Minor aches and scrapes, but they weren’t worth mentioning. “Raymond and Craig were the ones who grabbed me. They put me in a cabin somewhere in the swamp.” She described what she could remember of the cabin. “I cut myself free as soon as they left, but Leo caught me out in the swamp. I’m sorry—he looked like someone who’d help me.”
“You did amazing,” Gideon said.
“I just saw Raymond Stephens a few minutes ago. I didn’t see anyone else. He didn’t see me.”
“Good.” Gideon sounded profoundly relieved. “Is there anywhere you can hide until I can come find you?”
She looked around, trying to see anything remotely familiar about her surroundings. “I think I might be close to the cabin,” she decided. “I can’t go back there, but if you could figure out where it is—”
“I know just who to ask,” he said firmly. “Hang up the phone and put it on vibrate. I’ll call you back as soon as I can—”
There was a small commotion on the other end of the line. The next thing she heard was her brother Jesse’s voice. “Shan? It’s me. Tell me you’re okay. Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. I’m just a little wet and a whole lot scared.” She blinked back tears, refusing to let them fall. “What are you doing there?”
“Coming to get you, darlin’.” Jesse’s voice softened. “I’m so sorry for sending you down here without even telling you why.”
“We’ll talk about that when I see you again. But stop kicking yourself.” She thought about all she’d been through over the past few days, the friendship she’d found in Lydia and the excitement and passion of her roller-coaster feelings for Gideon, and she couldn’t regret a thing except letting herself be taken hostage in the first place. “I’m fine. Cooper Security taught me well. Just get here soon, okay?”
“Hunker down and stay out of sight. Can you do that?”
She grinned, feeling hope for the first time. “If there’s anything a Cooper knows how to do, it’s hide in the woods.”
Chapter Seventeen
“Who’s this person we’re going to see?” Rick Cooper’s voice was edged with frantic impatience as Gideon led them to the garage unit at the Terrebonne Marina.
“It’s a man who knows the backwoods around here like his own reflection in the mirror,” Gideon answere
d, keying open the padlock and opening the garage door. He’d have preferred to take the truck, but even the extended cab wouldn’t accommodate all five of them. He unlocked the Cadillac instead and motioned them inside.
“Wouldn’t happen to be Rudy Lawler, would it?” J.D. slid into the front passenger seat next to him, leaving the backseat to his brother and cousins.
“You know him?” Gideon asked.
“Met him once.” A smile played with J.D.’s mouth, as if the memory amused him. “Sure you can get him to cooperate?”
“I have my ways,” Gideon said grimly.
J.D. muttered something that sounded like “jarhead.” Gideon let it pass, concentrating on backing out of the garage without hitting anyone in his haste to get to Rudy’s place.
Even though his land butted up to some pretty expensive property just off County Road 9, Rudy Lawler lived in a small, cluttered bungalow that had seen better days. The clapboard siding was weathered and faded, once a lively yellow but now a dingy, mud-spattered dun. An old Buick sat in the side yard, tires missing, propped on cinderblocks. More rust than blue paint covered its dented chassis, and kudzu was growing up over the back window.
At the sound of the Cadillac, Rudy Lawler stepped out of the house, cradling a Remington 700 rifle. Gideon sighed, not in the mood to have to talk him down, but before he could make a move, J.D. got out of the car and walked toward Rudy, showing no sign of fear.
“Hey, Rudy, remember me?” J.D. called.
Eyes narrowing, Rudy tightened his grip on the Remington. “You’re that big gorilla who tried to knock my head off out in the woods behind that restaurant, ain’t you?”
Gideon looked at the others. “Stay put.” He got out and joined J.D. in the yard. “Hey, Rudy.”
“What do y’all want?” Rudy asked suspiciously.
“We’re looking for a cabin. Somewhere secluded,” J.D. said.
“Somewhere marshy, where you’d find alligators.”
Rudy looked from one to the other of them, his brow furrowed. “You wantin’ to hide out or something?”