by Sharon Wray
Clayborne took the third. “‘I grieve for you, O Mary most sorrowful, in those anxieties which tried your troubled heart at the loss of your dear Jesus.’”
Isabel took off her glasses. “These sound like the Seven Dolors of Mary.”
Apparently, her expensive parochial high school in Savannah had had value after all.
She read the last four appendix pages. “They are the seven dolors. But why go to all that trouble to hide them in a cipher?”
“No idea. This is fucked up. I thought we’d be getting directions, like some kind of eighteenth-century GPS system.”
She’d thought that too. She walked to the car’s open back door and looked at Allison. With her gag and blindfold, her hair hung in chunky strands around her sweaty face. “Do you know what the seven dolors mean?”
Allison shook her head.
“Of course she’s going to say no,” Clayborne said.
Isabel motioned to the guard. “Get out.” When he did, she sat next to Allison, took off the gag, and whispered, “How about a trade? You tell me what the seven dolors mean, and I’ll give you the information Zack needs to save his men.”
Allison sniffled and wiped her mouth on her upper arm. “I don’t know.”
Isabel grabbed Allison’s hair and yanked her head back. “I could torture you instead.”
Allison grimaced. “Like you tortured Stuart?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know what it means.”
Isabel re-gagged Allison and got out. Isabel had done enough interrogations in her time that she could tell Allison wasn’t lying.
Isabel found Clayborne flipping through the book they’d found. “Somehow, these dolors are supposed to lead us to the treasure. We just have to figure out how.”
Clayborne scratched his head. “Henry Avery wasn’t a church-going man.”
“Henry Avery was a brilliant, paranoid opportunist who trusted few people.” Isabel put the papers into the bag. “He was also a unique, out-of-the box thinker.”
“You think this is an out-of-the-box message?”
“I do.” She just didn’t know what kind yet.
“Look at this book about pirates and their secrets.” Clayborne had stopped at a page with a yellow Post-it note with the words Mercy’s grave? written on it.
“That’s Stuart’s handwriting.” She read the chapter title: Thomas Toban and the Ironworker. “It says here that in 1702 the pirate Thomas Toban hired the Charleston iron and glassworker Joshua Linguard for a project that took two years to complete and cost ten thousand pounds.”
Clayborne pointed to a sentence. “The project was completed in May 1704, and Joshua disappeared a few weeks later.”
“The same time that Henry and Mercy disappeared.” Isabel looked off into the distant darkness. “Hezekiah said that Thomas bought Henry Avery’s ship when he retired. So Thomas and Henry knew each other.”
“Maybe this project was the hiding of Henry’s treasure?”
“Possibly.” She turned to another page and her heart raced. “Here’s a scanned image of the eighteenth-century receipt. It’s signed by Joshua Linguard, Thomas Toban, and Mercy Chastain.”
“Mercy was definitely in on this gig, then.”
Isabel grabbed the flashlight to look at the Joshua Linguard Workshop logo on the receipt—a JL in the middle of a lily. “This logo is on the doorknob of the Usher Society building.”
“Turn the page. There’s another photo of that logo.”
She turned to see a close-up photo of church doors with the doorknobs carved with the JL logo. The year 1704 was marked below. “I know this church.”
She threw the book into the tote bag and got into the car.
“Where are we going?” Clayborne asked as he started the car.
“To find the treasure.”
* * *
The van stopped, and Zack opened his eyes. They’d been driving for… Hell, he had no idea how long they’d been driving. It was dark and hot in the back of the van with no windows or ventilation.
Or maybe it was the heat of Horatio’s contempt.
Fuck you, buddy.
The van door opened and Horatio got out, rifle over his shoulder, flashlight on. Zack was grateful for the breeze, even if it meant an incoming storm.
Zack pulled off his gag. Pete’s and Garza’s eyes went wide until Zack held up a metal bolt he’d found beneath his ass. While they’d been driving, he’d cut through the zip tie. Luckily, it’d been dark and bouncy, so Horatio hadn’t noticed.
Pete turned, and Zack cut his ties. Then Pete freed Garza.
Horatio was talking to Fortinbras. They spoke so softly Zack couldn’t hear.
“Now what?” Pete asked.
“We run.”
“No. We don’t even know where we’ve stopped.” Garza lowered his voice even more. “You run. They won’t all go after you because they’ll need to take care of us as well.”
“We separate them?” Zack liked the idea. “What about you two?”
“We’ll pretend we’re still bound. When we start moving again, we’ll figure out a way to take control.”
“It’s dangerous,” Zack said. “They’re Fianna warriors.”
“Fuck that,” Pete whispered. “We’ll meet you back at the gym.”
This was one of those plans that seemed destined to fail—pretty much like every plan he’d made lately. “We’ve no idea where we are. It could take hours to get back to Savannah.”
Pete gripped Zack’s shoulder. “Then you better start running.”
Zack nodded and moved toward the door. The warriors were talking near the driver’s side door. The woods were on his right, and he saw a sign for the town of Levy.
Thank God. “We’re close to the Georgia border.”
He shimmied out—the only time in his entire life he’d ever shimmied anywhere.
Once clear of the van, he scrambled down a ravine. Although the woods looked close, there were still ten yards to clear before he hit the tree line. He ran faster than he’d ever run in his entire life. He only paused once, a few minutes later, when he heard two particular sounds. Loud male voices and…gunshots.
* * *
Nate sat in the gym’s office while Kells paced the room. So far, Nate had been called irresponsible, rash, reckless, as well as other words he’d never repeat in polite company.
Yes, maybe the decision to send Pete and Garza to Charleston hadn’t been well thought out. Adding Rafe to the mix when Kells still didn’t trust the ex–Green Beret/Fianna warrior might not have been Nate’s best idea. But the truth was Kells had gone off without telling anyone where and had left Nate to deal with the crisis.
Rafe, who stood in the corner, cleared his throat. “The women should’ve arrived by now.”
Nate sent Rafe a Really? glare. Because stating the obvious wasn’t helping.
Rafe’s response? A shrug.
Kells stopped near the window overlooking the street and crossed his arms. “Nate, are you sure you gave Allison the correct directions?”
Oh. Come. On. “Yes, sir.”
The office door opened, and Luke’s head appeared. “Pete and Garza are—”
Pete pushed by Luke. Garza followed. While Pete strode to the window near Kells, Garza stayed back, near the filing cabinet that held the printer.
Kells’s eyes widened in surprise. “I thought you were taken by warriors?”
“We were,” Pete said. “Me, Garza, and Zack. But we got away.”
Kells glanced at Garza. “How?”
That single word carried a number of questions, including Did anyone die?
“While looking for Emilie, we were taken by two heavily-armed warriors and tossed into a van. When we stopped near the Georgia border, we broke free and Zack got out to run—”
“Wait,” Kells said, “Zack left you behind?”
“It’s not what you think, sir,” Pete said. “We decided he should run and divide the warriors. One ran after Zack while we took down the other and grabbed the van.”
“Pete,” Nate asked, “You didn’t pass a car with three women in it, did you?”
Pete frowned, then Garza frowned, and both said, “Why?”
“Allison called an hour ago. She, along with Emilie and a woman named Tarragon, were driving here after escaping two Fianna warriors. Except they’re late.”
“Do you know what kind of car Allison drives?” Pete asked.
“Yes,” Rafe said. “A silver Honda Accord.”
“I told you.” Garza pointed at Pete. “It had a bumper sticker that said Nicholas Trott for Charleston County School Board Supervisor.”
“This isn’t my fault.” Pete pointed back at Garza. “Nicholas Trott is a common name. I mean, who elects a dog to a school board?”
“That’s enough,” Kells said. “Did you see Allison’s car?”
“Yes.” Pete ran his hands through his hair that had been plaited hours ago but now hung straight down his back. “Off to the side. It looked abandoned.”
Fuck. “Where?”
“A few miles north of the Georgia border.”
“And you didn’t check it out?” Nate asked Pete.
“I didn’t know it was Allison’s car. We wanted to get back here as soon as possible. We also had no way of knowing Allison was anyplace other than at her house with Alex.”
“Wait,” Garza said. “How did the women get away from the Fianna? And what happened to Alex?”
Rafe stepped up for this one. “Alex traded himself to the Fianna in order to let the women go.”
“So,” Kells said slowly as if he were speaking to children, “Zack is on foot, running from a Fianna warrior. Allison, Emilie, and another woman are missing. Alex is with the Prince.”
“There’s one more thing,” Pete said. “That Fianna warrior we overtook in order to get the van? We didn’t kill him.”
Kells frowned. “I’m very glad about that.”
Pete grabbed two water bottles from the small fridge and handed one to Garza. “We had to do something with him though.”
Luke’s head appeared in the doorway again. “Sir? Did you know there’s a man tied up in the back room?”
Kells glared at Pete. “The Fianna warrior is here?”
Pete took a drink, almost finishing the bottle. “We had to bring Fortinbras with us.”
Garza took a gulp of water and added, “He’s your hostage.”
Chapter 42
Alex shoved the box into his brother’s closet in the Mills House Hotel suite and dialed Nate. When Nate didn’t answer, Alex left a detailed message and hung up. Then he returned to the living room to finish the dinner he’d ordered from room service.
Even though he was stuck here, with Marcellus in the hallway guarding the door, the information he’d just learned was worth being traded for the women.
Finally, just as Alex stacked his dishes on the tray, Marcellus opened the door and Aidan walked in. Although he wore a suit and still appeared tall and strong and formidable, there was a tiredness about him that Alex hadn’t seen the other day.
“My lord,” Marcellus said to Aidan. “Your brother has returned.”
Aidan dropped a leather briefcase on a polished credenza. “Thank you, Marcellus.”
Marcellus left and Alex said, “You heard what happened?”
“Yes.” Aidan went for the bar and opened a bottle of water. “You gave yourself up to save those women. Commendable, yet as usual you acted without understanding the consequences.”
Alex sat on the couch and propped his boots on the coffee table. Now that his stomach was full, he yawned. “I’m not interested in another lecture on my lack of impulse control.”
“You can’t lack what you never had.”
Alex clasped his hands behind his head. If Aidan was going to lecture, then Alex was going to respond with insolence. “I saved them.”
“You put them in even more danger.”
“Horseshit.”
“Do you know where the women are now?”
“On their way to Savannah where the great Kells Torridan can protect them.”
“They were until they were intercepted by Isabel Rutledge. Now they, along with your buddy Zack, are missing.”
“Wait.” Alex stood. “What?”
“Isabel has Allison and has sent Emilie and Tarragon to Remiel. My guess is that by dawn, they’ll be dead.” Aidan pointed toward a door across the room. “Get some sleep. You’re going to need it.”
“Aren’t we going after the women?”
“No.” Aidan headed in the opposite direction, toward his own room.
“You and Kells are so much alike it’s weird that he’s not your brother.”
Aidan came back, anger flashing in his eyes until his phone rang. He answered on the first ring. “Yes?”
Aidan’s face turned red. “I’ll be in touch.”
After he hung up, Alex pressed even though he shouldn’t. “Who was that?”
“Kells.” Aidan headed for his room until Alex grabbed his arm.
“What’s wrong?”
“Kells has one of my warriors. If I want him back, I have to give Kells what he wants.”
“What’s that?”
“You.”
* * *
Zack paused near an oak tree. Horatio had been hunting Zack for miles.
Zack’s lungs ached and his legs felt like they were going to fall off. He pressed his forehead against the bark and took in as many deep breaths as he could in the shortest amount of time.
I have to keep going.
Except the problem was he had no idea where. His only hope was to find a river or a road he could follow. He took in more breaths and listened to the sounds around him. When he didn’t hear anything, he moved again. A hundred yards later, he noticed a road.
A light flickered ahead and he ran. A car sat on the side of the road. Its headlights were off but a man with a flashlight was searching it.
Horatio?
Zack crouched while Horatio went through the car. It wasn’t until Horatio moved to the trunk that the flashlight lit up the back bumper. A silver Honda Accord with a Nicholas Trott bumper sticker.
Allison’s car?
Horatio shut the trunk, leaned his ass against the metal, and held his cell phone to his ear. He held the car keys in his other hand. “I’ve lost Tremaine yet have reclaimed Lady Allison’s carriage.”
Where was Allison?
“Isabel has Lady Allison?” Horatio closed his eyes and responded, “Yes, sir.”
Horatio hung up and went around to the driver’s side door.
Zack picked up a dead branch and came up behind Horatio. Horatio turned just as Zack swung. The branch hit Horatio on the temple and he fell to his knees.
Horatio recovered enough to grab Zack’s legs and throw him to the ground. The force knocked the air out of his lungs. Horatio straddled Zack and swung a right hook into Zack’s jaw. Pain shot through his head and his vision starred. He reached for the nearby branch and swung again, knocking Horatio off. Zack straddled Horatio and threw so many punches he lost count. He only stopped because his fist had gone numb and his arm hurt like every bone had been broken.
Zack rolled off, his chest aching as he dragged in oxygen. He placed his palm on his own heart and discovered he was hyperventilating. Between the running, the fighting, and the worrying, he was a mess. Here he was, a former Green Beret, lying on his back in the middle of a rural road, barely able to breathe.
Hooah.
When Horatio groaned, Zack got to his knees and found the flashlight beneath the car. In the process, he f
ound the car keys and discovered the front side windows had been smashed. He had to get himself together. Allison was missing and he had no idea where she’d gone. And what was he going to do with Horatio? Zack could leave him in the road, but that seemed cruel. Even for a Fianna warrior who’d been nothing but a pain in Zack’s ass.
He used the car to pull himself up and found a dog leash in the trunk. After tying Horatio’s hands behind his back, and spending another ten minutes dragging the enormous man into the back seat, Zack brushed away the safety glass and got into the driver’s seat. Luckily, he’d found a bag with water bottles and snacks. He also had Horatio’s cell phone, but it was locked. “Horatio? What’s your phone’s password?”
Horatio tried to spit at him.
Zack thought about everything he knew about Horatio. The man ran around hitting people, kidnapping women, and spouting Shakespearean verses.
Of course.
Zack used the keypad to spell out a word and…it unlocked! Since Nate wasn’t answering his cell, Zack called the gym’s phone.
“Hello?” Nate’s hesitant voice came through in pieces, probably because there was little cell service.
Zack put the phone in the cup holder and drove. “It’s Zack. I found Allison’s car. I’m thirty minutes away.”
“Allison called me earlier. She was with Emilie and another woman. I gave her directions to the gym, but we have no idea what happened to them.”
“Isabel has Allison. I don’t know about Emilie.” Zack blew out a breath. Knowing Emilie was free of the Prince was a huge relief. But the fact that she was missing again made him feel even worse. “Pete and Garza?”
“They arrived with a Fianna warrior as hostage. Kells is concerned.”
“Tell Kells I’m making it a twosome. I have Horatio.”
“Great.”
“What about the fact that Kells fired me?”
“Don’t worry about that. Drive safely and get back ASAP. We’ll figure out what to do next. Rafe just left to meet a contact. He’s hoping to find something out as well.”
“Thanks, brother. I’ll see you soon.” Zack tossed the phone out the window and sped up. The phone probably had a tracking device.
When Horatio moaned, Zack glanced in his rearview mirror. “Hey, Horatio. May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”