by Sharon Wray
“Zack was a sourpuss before he left,” Alex said as he turned a page.
She crossed her arms tightly around herself. “He found out I’m considering a teaching position at the University of Virginia.”
Alex moved toward her and stared into the garden as well. “Are you leaving Zack behind?”
“I don’t know.” She pressed her fist against her forehead. “It’s a great job and a chance to start over again. I also know Zack has commitments to his men in Savannah. I don’t want to hurt him, but I honestly don’t know if I want him to come with me. All I do know is that I want to find Emilie and end this nightmare.”
Alex’s breaths sounded harsh. “Can you guess what the problem is with running away?”
She shook her head and brushed away a stray tear.
“You take yourself with you.” Alex bumped her shoulder with his. “I speak as a man who’s run away and been put away.”
She exhaled heavily. “I don’t know what to do.”
“In a situation like this, you’re not supposed to. And while I hate to break up your personal pity party, we have real things to worry about. Like Zack leading an operation with no idea what he’s walking into. Hell, for all we know, there could be a company of Fianna warriors there protecting Emilie.”
She hit Alex’s massive bicep with her small fist. “Why didn’t you say something?”
He didn’t even have the decency to rub his arm like it hurt. “Zack is a Green Beret. He’ll figure it out. Unfortunately, he’s almost out of time.”
She swallowed back the tears that made her vision blur. She hated that she was such an emotional mess. “Do you think Kells meant it when he told Zack not to come back?”
Alex shrugged. “Kells gets frustrated when men don’t do what he says or question his orders. The irony is he’s known in SF circles to be calm, cool, and completely in control. Since the discharges? He’s been under tremendous stress and acting like a dick. Probably because he’s beholden to this super-secret contact who’s keeping his men out of prison. Being an ass is his way of coping.”
She could see why a man like Kells might act like that. And she could also see why Zack would chafe. “I think Zack is trying to redeem himself. To prove he’s not a coward.”
Which was crazy because he was the bravest man she knew.
“Probably. Male pride and all that.”
She gave her most dejected sigh, went to the desk, and found Stuart’s planner. “Alex, what did you find at the Charleston Architectural Board?”
Alex came to the desk and shoved the envelope containing the appendix and homemade Pirate’s Grille into the tote bag. “Stuart borrowed a book, Notorious Pirates and their Secrets, 1650–1781. It hasn’t been returned, so he must’ve put it somewhere.”
Allison flipped through the planner. “I’ve not seen anything like that in the house.”
“Maybe at his office?”
“No. The bank delivered…” A flash of heat rushed through her body. With shaky hands, she dropped the planner and grabbed Alex’s wrist. “Get your gun.”
“Why?”
“We’re going to Pirate House.”
* * *
Zack led the way through the woods around Fenwick Hall, trying not to worry about Allison’s text. Not only was he shocked by her consideration of that job, but his heart was shattered. Even though they’d never once talked about their future past the Fianna-driven deadline, he’d just assumed…because he was a selfish bastard.
When was he going to remember that about himself?
Why wouldn’t she take the job? Why wouldn’t she leave all of this heartache behind?
Why wouldn’t she want to start a new life with new people in a new state?
While a part of him wanted this opportunity for her, another part knew the futility of running away. Hell, he was living that futility every moment of every day.
Including that exact moment, as he dodged a spiderweb only to step near a nest of copperheads.
He moved carefully, silently ordering himself to let go of his worry about Allison. He had to keep his focus sharp and his physical responses sharper.
He held up a hand and stopped behind an oak tree fifty yards from the barn. Pete and Rafe squatted nearby. Garza waited on the causeway, where they’d hidden the truck. Being a cop, they decided it was best for him to stay as far outside of this operation as possible.
Their other concern was Rafe. He’d gotten no information from the Fianna about this situation. They had no idea what they were walking into, how many—if any—Fianna guards were there. Yet if the warriors discovered Rafe was helping Zack, the Prince could rain down hell.
“Getting here,” Pete whispered, “was too easy.”
Zack glanced at Pete and Rafe. Since they both wore black combat pants, black T-shirts, field jackets, and boots as their regular-day dress, they were more prepared. This wasn’t the first time he’d ended up running an op with little preparation, wearing jeans and carrying borrowed weapons. But he was determined to make it his last.
“I agree,” Rafe said.
Allison had been right about the opening in the ten-foot-high wall surrounding Raven’s Retreat. What she hadn’t mentioned were the brambles, snakes, or spiders.
“The only cameras are on the front gate and the trees down the driveway,” Rafe said. “Which is strange.”
“Allison said her mother and Fenwick rely on the walls, the river, and the impassable land for protection.”
Pete peered into the dark. “Is this place really a cult?”
“Yes.” Zack wished they had night vision, but they’d have to manage with two flashlights they were hesitant to use. Luckily, the half-moon’s reflection off the river provided ambient light. “Fourteen men and twenty women live here with Rue and Fenwick.”
“That’s fourteen men too many,” Rafe said. “Still, I don’t see any of them. There were no guards at the front gate. No perimeter patrols. Something doesn’t feel right.”
Zack pointed to the barn near the river. “Pete, you and I will get into the barn. Rafe, you stay behind as watch. Signal if anyone shows up.”
“What if there are warriors inside?” Pete asked Rafe.
“Pray. Kneel. Submit.”
Zack nodded. “Let’s go.”
A few minutes later, Zack opened the combination lock and led Pete inside the barn. There was no movement, no sounds other than the river lapping at a faraway dock.
“What’s that smell?” Pete whispered.
“Herbs.” Like the last time he’d been there, he smelled lavender and licorice. Unlike last time, the fan sound was off and the upper door was no longer barricaded.
Once they cleared the bottom floor, they met at the steps. Zack went upstairs first and used his rifle to push open the unlocked door. He went in, surveyed the scene, and exhaled.
“Well, shit,” Pete muttered.
A lit flashlight lay on the floor, beneath a blanket, giving off a muffled beam. A mattress in the corner had a plate of food next to it. Pete picked up a newspaper. It was the same one Emilie had held in her proof-of-life photo.
They heard an owl hoot twice. Then a third time.
Pete gripped Zack’s shoulder. “That’s Rafe. We need to leave.”
Emilie was gone. Zack had failed. Again.
“Come on!” Pete dragged Zack down the stairs and stopped.
Two flashlights came on, blinding them. Zack raised his hand to shade his eyes, and one of the lights lowered enough for him to see the situation.
Horatio and another warrior he didn’t recognize blocked the exit.
Horatio turned off his light and came forward, his gun’s red laser sight pointed at Zack’s chest. “Offer your swords to Fortinbras.”
When the red laser sight from Fortinbras’s gun hit Pete’s forehead, Pete t
hrew down his rifle. Zack tossed his on top.
Horatio raised an eyebrow.
“Fuck.” Pete pulled out his pistol and knives and tossed them.
Zack did the same. “Now what?”
Horatio pointed to the door. “Now, you attend us.”
Fortinbras came over with plastic zip ties and bound Zack’s and Pete’s wrists behind their backs. Fortinbras gagged Pete with a blue bandana.
Before Fortinbras could gag Zack, he demanded, “Where’s my sister?”
“Safe for now.” Fortinbras shoved a gag into Zack’s mouth and dragged him toward the door. “Although you may have forsaken Lady Emilie’s life because you’ve chosen to fight instead of search.”
“Fuff foo.” He tried to kick Fortinbras only to trip and fall to his knees.
Fortinbras yanked Zack up and pain ripped through his shoulder. He ground his teeth on the gag. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of a grunt.
Horatio walked ahead with the flashlight until they reached a white van near the river. He opened the back and forced Pete in. Then Zack. Not an easy thing to do when one was bound and had to hop in ass-first.
Horatio pushed Zack, and he landed on his side. It wasn’t until he managed to get into a seated position that he saw Detective Garza, also bound and gagged, a few feet away.
Horatio sat on a bench bolted to the wall and pointed his gun at Zack. “Pray that your love will find the pirate king’s treasure in time.”
The door slammed, and Zack kicked the metal door, leaving a dent the size of a cannonball.
Chapter 39
Allison led the way through the gate leading to Pirates Courtyard with a penlight, and Alex followed with his weapon ready. He’d not been happy about her plan, had bitched as she wrote a note to Zack telling him where she was going. Had complained so much that she’d even let him drive, although she doubted he had a license. While it was close enough to walk, she didn’t want to waste time.
In the car, she told him about the boxes from Stuart’s office that she’d had delivered to Pirate House because she didn’t know what to do with them.
They entered the patio, guided by lights strung though the trees and around the fountain. She was surprised when the motion-sensor floodlight didn’t turn on. She was even more surprised to find the back door unlocked.
Alex opened the door for her. “Why is the house unlocked?”
“I don’t know. That’s been happening lately.” She entered the kitchen but didn’t turn on the main lights. It just seemed safer keeping them off. “Over here.”
“Why are we whispering?”
“It feels like we should.” She used the flashlight to illuminate the boxes on the floor. Alex moved them to the kitchen table so she could start going through them. It didn’t take long to find the book. While she checked the other boxes, Alex flipped through the book’s pages.
A loud noise sounded on the second floor, and Alex raised his light to the ceiling.
When they heard the noise again, Alex ran down the hallway. He only slowed as he climbed the tight, narrow staircase. Allison came up behind him, tote bag on her shoulder. Her breaths shortened and her heart beat so loudly it was all she could hear.
The noise sounded for a third time, and Alex pushed on the door. It was locked.
Allison handed him the house key. “It works on all the locks.”
He slipped it in and turned the bolt. Keeping his weapon ready, he put the penlight in his mouth and used his other hand to push the door open. They heard another bang.
Alex went into the room and stopped so quickly that Allison ran into his back. That’s when she saw, in the beam of their light, Emilie on the floor near the fireplace. She was gagged, and her hands were handcuffed to an old iron ring attached to the mantel. Nearby was a wood box she’d been kicking. The velvet curtains hanging over the windows had been pinned together to keep the room dark.
Allison ran over and took out the gag. Emilie fixed her gaze over Allison’s shoulder and yelled, “Watch out!”
Allison and Alex spun around at the same time as a woman with white hair and in a pale blue nightgown appeared. Allison stumbled back. Mercy Chastain?
The woman’s wild, unkempt curls floated around her shoulders, and her face was covered with tiny scars.
The woman rushed Alex, except he subdued her easily and ended up holding her back to his front with his arms around her. And he still held his weapon. “What. The. Fuck.”
“I don’t know her name.” Emilie coughed on the words, and Allison found a half-full water bottle nearby. She held it up for Emilie to drink. “But she lives here. These strange men take care of her. Since I’ve been here, she hasn’t spoken at all. I think she’s mute.”
In response, the woman struggled against Alex again—in complete silence.
“What men?” Allison checked the handcuffs and iron ring. She had no way of getting Emilie free.
“These men with a strange walk who talk like they’re from another century. There’s usually one with us at all times. They only tie me up when they leave us alone.”
“Allison.” Alex grunted as he kept the woman under control. “In my back pocket, there’s a handcuff key.”
She hurried over and found it. “Why—”
“My present from the police station.” He pulled the woman to the floor and got her to sit between his legs. His arms were around her middle, keeping her from flailing, and his legs were over hers. And he still held his weapon.
Allison unlocked Emilie and helped her up. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t find you sooner.”
Emilie gave Allison a hug. “I’m grateful you found me at all.”
“Uh,” Alex said with more groans and grunts as he kept the struggling woman from kicking him. “What now?”
“I will tell you, my lord and ladies.” The male voice came from the doorway, and they turned to see Marcellus blocking the way, a handgun pressed against his thigh. “’Tis time for the madness to end.”
* * *
Isabel sat on a bench in the back of Saint Philip’s east churchyard and checked her phone. The electricity and cell service had returned earlier, and her crew was using the construction equipment again. Fluky power wasn’t conducive to treasure hunting.
Neither was the cloud cover, another threatening storm, or her pounding stress headache.
Clayborne strode in her direction, dodging a sleeping angel statue embedded in weeds and wildflowers. While she didn’t care how the church honored its dead, she was grateful for the cover. For the past few weeks, she’d had a crew disguised as a pipe restoration company digging around the graves, and no one had said a word. Now, with Pastor Tom in the hospital, they could work at night.
The annoying thing was that she had to pay her men overtime—not because they were working in the dark, but because they were afraid of seeing Mercy Chastain’s ghost across the street.
Clayborne stopped in front of her. “There’s nothing here. Stuart gave you wrong information.”
She looked up at him. “Stuart loved me. He wouldn’t do that.”
Clayborne wiped his forehead with his arm. “Toward the end of your affair, Stuart knew you’d betrayed him. It’s possible he betrayed you first by giving you false information.”
No. It wasn’t possible. Stuart had loved her. She stood, walked to a construction hole, and stopped near a headstone carved with a broken daisy. “Stuart gave me the information in bed. Before he knew I worked for Remiel.”
Clayborne kicked a rock—or maybe a bone—into the hole. “Earlier today I asked a historian to look at Mercy’s headstone. While old, it might be a forgery.”
She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I believe Stuart found an old, unnamed headstone in the back of this cemetery and added that carving of a broken daisy. Stuart wanted you to be
lieve that Mercy was buried here as a fifolet to protect Henry’s treasure.”
Isabel wrapped her arms around herself. Had Stuart betrayed her? If so, then all of this time had been wasted. “If the treasure isn’t here, where is it?”
“I don’t know.” He took out his buzzing cell phone. “It’s a text from my man following Horatio.”
She read over Clayborne’s shoulder. “Your man lost Horatio but found Marcellus.”
“Yes.” Clayborne whistled to the crew and they turned off their equipment. “Marcellus just entered Pirate House.”
Isabel smiled and stared through the darkness toward the house beyond the iron gates. Then, she embraced the relief that eased her headache.
Pirate House was across the street. And it was time to end this.
Chapter 40
Well, fuck.
Alex released the woman and stood, making sure the three women were behind him and his weapon was pointed at Marcellus. “I’m leaving, and I’m taking all of the women with me. Whatever game you’re playing”—he nodded toward the woman in the blue nightgown silently sobbing in a corner—“it’s over.”
“This play within a play ends when the Prince wills it.” Marcellus floated in with that eerie walk and stopped in front of Alex. “I require your phones.”
Alex was so sick of this shit. “Do you not see my gun? It’s pointed at your fucking face.”
Marcellus laughed as another armed warrior entered the room. This one, a tall black man with green eyes and wearing combat pants, held a gun with a red laser sight pointed at Emilie’s forehead.
Alex placed his gun on the floor and kicked it to Marcellus. He could take one man in the space of a gunshot, but that second would kill Emilie. Of that he was sure.
Allison and Alex threw their phones on the floor. Marcellus tilted his head until Alex tossed his second phone as well.
“Well met.” The new man with an Australian accent hit his chest with his free fist and bowed his head. “They call me Laertes.”
“Laertes?” Allison’s voice sounded hushed, and she stared at him with wide eyes.