There had to be proof that he was lying.
They just had to find it.
He fingered the Bible he’d taken from Lark. There was something in it, a pattern of some sort. He was sure it was intentional. What he didn’t know was if it was connected with Elijah.
“You have any connections with the CIA?” he asked, and Chance shot him a hard look.
“That’s an interesting question.”
“I think there might be a code in Joshua’s Bible.”
“Really?” Lark leaned over the seat, her head close to his, the scent of flowers and sunshine drifting from her hair.
“I can’t be sure,” he responded, taking a Maglite from the car’s glove compartment and turning it on. He aimed the light on a page-marked section of scripture, eyeing the highlighted areas. “But I think there’s a pattern here. I’m not familiar enough with coding to figure it out, but there are people who can.”
“I might know a few,” Chance said, a hint of interest in his voice. In the years that Cyrus had known him, Chance had never been anything but even keel. He didn’t get overly emotional, didn’t allow himself to be pulled into drama. He handled things with calm efficiency, worked as hard as any member of the team.
“How soon do you think you can get in touch with someone?”
“I should have someone lined up by tomorrow. As long as things don’t go too far south today.” He glanced in the rearview mirror, not a hint of concern or panic in his expression.
There was something, though, a little more tension in his hands as he held the steering wheel, a little more tautness in his jaw.
Cyrus glanced in the side mirror, watching the narrow country road. No cars. No lights. Nothing that should have been alarming.
“You see something?” he asked, and Chance frowned.
“Three flashes of light. Looked like headlights, but there’s no road that way. Just the woods.”
“Could be hunters.”
“Not this close to a residential area, and not this early in the season.”
“What are you thinking? A signal of some sort?”
“It doesn’t make sense, but yeah. That’s what I’m thinking.”
“We’ve been here for five days. If Elijah knew it…” He’d have stayed away, waited until they left the safety of the house before he tried to grab Lark. “He’d have waited us out.”
“We’re thinking in the same direction,” Chance said. “The guy has to be smart. He’s been feeding people lies for decades and getting away with it. No way would he have tried to get at Lark while she was in the safe house. He’d wait until she was out in the open and vulnerable. Then he’d take his shot. Of course, those flashes could have been a hiker walking through the woods. Some teens out on an adventure.”
“You don’t believe that, and neither do I.”
“You’re right,” Chance agreed. “We’ve got a choice to make. Stay the course or turn around.”
“Stay the course,” Lark said as if she really thought she had a choice.
“Sorry,” Chance responded. “You don’t get any say in it.”
“I don’t see—”
The headlights glinted on something in the woods. Just a brief second. Then gone. Not animal eyes. Something metal or glass.
Chance had seen it, too.
The car sped toward the end of the country road, its headlights suddenly off.
Something roared out of the woods behind them.
And Cyrus pulled his gun, opened the window.
“What are you doing?” Lark yelled. “You’re going to get killed!”
He ignored her, focused on the lights of the oncoming vehicle. One shot, and it swerved. Another and it slammed into a tree. A man jumped off, pulled a second from the vehicle.
Chance rounded a curve in the road, and the ATV was out of sight.
More lights flashed in the trees. More trouble coming.
Cyrus reloaded as another ATV sped into view.
“Get down and stay down,” he shouted at Lark, and then he let loose with a volley of shots that sent the men in the ATV running for cover.
FOURTEEN
The car just kept going, bullets exploding, Lark praying, because there was nothing else she could do but cower in the backseat.
The car swerved, and she thought the tire must have been blown out. Chance kept it on the road, taking a sharp turn onto what she thought might be the highway. She didn’t dare look.
Someone shouted, but she couldn’t hear past the pulse of terror in her ears. She kept her head down, wrapped her arms around her knees. As if that would help if a bullet flew through the side of the car.
The car bounced over the road, and Lark braced herself for another barrage of bullets. It didn’t come.
She waited, counting the seconds of silence, her mouth dry with fear, her skin tingling with adrenaline and terror.
Neither man spoke. No frantic call for help. Nothing but the soft chug of the engine and the thump of the flat tire.
She lifted her head. They were definitely on the highway, the landscape whizzing by on either side as the car bounced along the road. Cyrus had settled back into his seat, was typing something into his cell phone.
“Are they gone?” she asked.
“For now,” he responded, frowning as he looked at his cell phone. “Can I see your phone?”
She didn’t ask why, just handed it over.
He pried open the back, his frown deepening. “That explains a lot.”
“What?” She tried to see over the edge of the seat, tried to figure out what it was he was looking at.
“A tracking device.” He lifted a small oblong object. “That made it really easy for them to find the safe house. They’ve probably been camping out in the woods, waiting for you to leave the house.”
“Elijah must have pretty deep pockets to fund something like that,” Chance said, pulling the car over to the side of the road.
“If he’s been dealing in illegal weapons like that rocket launcher, that’s not surprising,” Cyrus responded.
Neither man seemed to be concerned about the fact that they were sitting in a car waiting for Elijah’s men to catch up to them.
Lark was.
She might be willing to go to River Fork, allow herself to bait the trap being set for Elijah, but she wasn’t willing to be a sitting duck waiting for the bullet that would kill her.
“Shouldn’t we be putting some distance between ourselves and them?” she asked, pivoting in her seat so she could see out the back window.
“We need new wheels,” Chance responded. “Literally. There’s no way we’ll make it to River Fork in this.”
“But—”
“They’re long gone, Lark. There’s no way they’re hanging around waiting for the police to arrive. They took their shot at getting their hands on you, they failed. Now they’re going to find a place to regroup,” Cyrus cut in, handing her phone back. “I put my number in it.”
“Seems a little unnecessary considering that she’s about two feet from you,” Chance said.
“She won’t always be,” Cyrus responded lightly. If he was embarrassed or annoyed by Chance’s comment, it didn’t show.
Lark shoved the phone into her pocket. “Thanks.”
Cyrus smiled, glanced at his cell phone again. “Here they are. Let’s move.”
He and Chance opened their doors at exactly the same time, their movements almost perfectly in sync. No wasted motion from either of them.
Lights splashed across Cyrus’s face as he opened Lark’s door, tugged her out. Before her feet hit the ground, another car was behind theirs, and Boone was moving toward them, his long legs eating up the space.
“Two perps down,” he said brusquely. “Non-life-threatening injuries, so the police may be able to get some information out of them.”
“There were at least four,” Cyrus responded, ushering Lark to the new vehicle, urging her into the backseat.
“Then two escaped.
We found one ATV. Tire blown out, headlights smashed. Stella is keeping an eye on the perps. Police are on their way, so if you’re going to go, now is a good time.”
They were running from the police?
Lark didn’t have time to ask the question. Before she could blink, her door was closed, and Cyrus was around the car, sliding into the seat beside her. He set Joshua’s Bible in her lap, told her to buckle up.
Chance jumped into the front seat, started the engine and merged onto the road.
“Boone—?” she started, and Cyrus patted her thigh, his hand warm through the denim.
“He’s staying with the car. The police will want to impound it.”
“Aren’t they also going to want to talk to us?”
“That’s why we’re taking off. We haven’t committed a crime, so they can’t legally hold us, but they can spend a lot of time asking questions. That’s time we don’t have.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her jaw. She shivered, fought the urge to lean her head against his shoulder, let herself soak in some of his warmth.
“I would think you’d be happy to stay here for a while,” she said, looking away from his dark eyes, his strong face, because she was afraid of what she was feeling, afraid of where things were headed. She’d lost Joshua. She hadn’t thought she would ever allow herself to care so deeply again. With Cyrus, she thought she could care that much. Thought that if she allowed herself to, she could fall into the gentleness of his touch, the darkness of his eyes, and lose herself there.
“I would be, but, if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that it’s always best to stick with the plan. A person starts veering left or right when he’s supposed to go straight, and he just might find himself falling off a cliff.”
That made her smile. “You’re an interesting person, Cyrus.”
“There are other words I’d use to describe him,” Chance intoned, and Lark laughed.
“He’s not the only one who’d use different words to describe me. There’ve been plenty of people who’ve said plenty of things about who I am,” Cyrus said quietly. “But there’s one thing I’m not, Lark, and that’s fickle. I still don’t want you in River Fork, but we’re going there. You’re going to follow the rules, do what you’re told and stay safe, because that’s part of the plan, too.”
“That’s good to know,” she said, all her amusement gone, all her laughter dying away. “Because I’m not all that keen on dying.”
He smiled, put an arm around her and pressed her head to his shoulder, his fingers tangling in the strands of hair near hear nape. “Are you keen on resting?”
She wasn’t. Not really. She was too keyed up from the gunfight, too wound up from the adrenaline, but she didn’t really want to move her head, so she nodded, closed her eyes and listened to the soft rumble of the men’s conversation as the miles slipped away.
*
They made it to River Fork in just under three-and-a-half hours, pulling into the hospital parking lot a few minutes before eleven. There were no police cruisers waiting for them there. Cyrus thought that was a good sign. They’d taken a chance when they’d left Maryland, and he’d half expected to get pulled over before they crossed into Pennsylvania.
Chance pulled up in front of the hospital entrance, shifted in his seat, his gaze moving from Cyrus to Lark. She’d fallen asleep with her head against his shoulder, her hair spilling over her face.
“Is this going to cause problems?” he asked.
“No.”
“Is it going to distract you?”
“I’d have told you if it was.”
“You’re sure? Because I really don’t want to replace you.”
“I’m sure.”
He nodded, got out of the car without another word. Typical of Chance. He trusted his team, didn’t second-guess them, didn’t try to tell them how to run their personal lives. Didn’t ever tell them not to get personally involved. Caring was the keystone of HEART. Without passion for the job, without a desperate need to rescue, reunite or bring closure, a team member was useless.
“Lark?” Cyrus brushed the hair off her cheek, surprised at how deeply involved he’d allowed himself to get. He could pull back. He knew it. Could keep going the way he had since Megan’s death—passionate about the team’s mission, but a little removed, a little detached.
He wouldn’t pull back, though.
Not from Lark.
“Lark?” he said again, and she sat up straight, pure terror in her eyes and on her face.
“Are they back?”
“We’re at the hospital,” he responded, rubbing the tension from her shoulders, feeling her muscles relax again.
“The hospital. Right.”
“We’re going inside and straight to your father-in-law’s room,” he said, taking the Bible from her lap and sliding it under the seat. The SUV they were in was alarmed and would signal on Chance’s key fob if anyone even touched it.
Cyrus would have preferred to take the Bible with him, but he didn’t want Lark’s in-laws to see it. They were hooked in deep with Elijah. He’d heard both of them waxing poetic about their religious leader.
“Sounds good.” Lark yawned, reached for the door.
“Hold on,” he said. “There are a couple of rules you need to follow. The first is that you stick close to either Chance or me. The second is—if I say get down, you’re to do it. Immediately. No questions. No hesitation.”
“We’re at a hospital,” she murmured, her cheeks pink from sleep, her eyes glassy. “Nothing is going to happen here.”
“Let’s hope you’re right,” he responded, getting out and rounding the car. He opened her door, took her elbow, Chance falling in behind them as he hurried her inside.
Eric Porter was on the third floor, and they took the elevator up, the canned music piped from the speaker doing nothing to improve Cyrus’s mood. He was sticking to the plan for exactly the reason he’d given Lark, but he wasn’t happy about it. He couldn’t help feeling like he was sending her into enemy territory without any way to defend herself.
They reached Eric’s room, and he walked in, not bothering to knock or to wait for an invitation. He wasn’t expecting trouble, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to get it. Elijah was going to a lot of effort to get his hands on Lark. Cyrus was sure he’d put a price on her head, and he had a feeling it was a high one. They needed to take Elijah down, get him behind bars and put an end to this.
Whatever this was.
He frowned.
The Bible. He had a feeling that was the key, that if they could figure out the code, they’d know exactly what Elijah was hiding.
He moved across the room, his gun holstered and hidden beneath his jacket. He didn’t want to scare anyone, but no way was he going to give anyone an opportunity to harm Lark.
A woman sat beside the hospital bed. Mid-fifties. Very slender, hair pulled back in a tight bun. Maria Porter wore the uniform every Amos Way woman wore—long cotton skirt, thick long-sleeved sweater, sturdy shoes. No makeup, of course, but she had a gentle prettiness that made her look younger than she probably was.
Her eyes widened as he and Lark approached.
“Lark! You’ve returned!” she cried. There was no denying her excitement, but she moved slowly, easing up from her chair, walking sedately across the room. “Eric has been asking for you.”
“Has he?” Lark embraced her mother-in-law, her gaze on the bed where Eric Porter lay.
Eyes closed, face slack, he didn’t look anything like the man Cyrus had met at Amos Way. That man had been filled with energy and opinions, his gaze direct, his face hard. This man looked about a decade older. There were bandages on his arms and hands, bandages on the foot that peeked out from under a sheet, raw red flesh on his face.
“Of course,” Maria said softly. “You know how much he cares about you.”
Lark pulled a chair close to the bed, sat down and touched Eric’s shoulder. “Dad?” she said. “Ho
w are you doing?”
Eric opened his eye, blinked as if he weren’t quite sure of what he was seeing. “Lark?”
“That’s right.”
“How are you, my dear?” He lifted a bandaged hand and touched her shoulder. The move should have been fatherly, but it seemed more proprietary to Cyrus.
He had the urge to brush the hand away, step between the two, but Lark didn’t seem bothered by the gesture. She smiled at her father-in-law. “Better than you, I’d say.”
“That would not take much,” he said, his gaze cutting to Cyrus. “I see the traitor is among us.”
“Is that what I am?” he asked, leaning against the wall, not at all bothered by Eric’s accusation.
“You know that you are,” he responded, turning his head away.
As if he’d commanded her to, Maria did the same.
“I think you’re being shunned,” Chance pointed out, his arms crossed over his chest, his shoulder against the doorjamb.
“What clued you in?”
“The fact that I’m the only one in the room who’s willing to look at you.”
“I’m willing,” Lark said, her gaze fixed on her father-in-law.
“And yet you’re not,” Chance responded.
Lark didn’t even crack a smile.
“How are you doing, Dad?” she asked. “Aside from the bandages and burns?”
“I will be better once the traitor leaves.”
“I’m not going—”
A series of loud beeps cut him off. He knew what they were, what they meant. He met Chance’s eyes. “The car,” he said as if his boss could have mistaken the sound for something else.
Before he finished speaking, Chance was in the hall, racing toward the bank of elevators.
Cyrus strode to the window, looked out into the parking lot, Lark edging in close, her hair brushing his arm.
“What is it?” she whispered, her fear spilling out in those simple words.
“Someone trying to get into the car,” he responded, scanning the nearly empty lot, finding Chance’s car. No movement near it, but the alarm hadn’t been triggered by nothing.
“Do you see anything?” Lark leaned toward the window, her forehead so close it nearly touched the glass. He imagined someone standing below, a high-powered rifle trained in their direction, and he moved between her and the glass.
Love Inspired Suspense June 2015 - Box Set 2 of 2: Exit StrategyPaybackCovert Justice Page 15