He wiped his brow on the long sleeve of his dark shirt. He’d traded his bow for a 20-gauge shotgun and was now training it on the cabin. He surveyed the area through the scope, switching to night vision to sweep the forest, as well.
Clear.
For now.
But he knew how quickly that could change.
He’d been in similar situations before. It went hand in hand with active service in a war zone. But every job was different, with variables you could plan for…and others you couldn’t.
Despite the detailed map Mara had made for him of the compound, he’d already noted a few differences. Like the cameras. A few more had been added since she’d last been there. And another trail. That didn’t concern him so much as what else might have been changed that they hadn’t allowed for.
He’d noticed a light on in the cabin. It was entirely possible it had been taken over by someone else high up in the command. Maybe what she was after was no longer even there.
And if that was the case…
He glimpsed movement to the right of the cabin.
Damn.
He focused on the guard closing in. He gauged the distance between him and the downed guard on the opposite side to be forty feet. If he spotted him…
He couldn’t chance live fire. Not yet. There wasn’t enough time for Mara to have gained access to the cabin yet, much less get what she was after, which she’d said was in a locked safe.
He exchanged the shotgun for his bow and trained his sights on the guard moving ever closer to the downed one.
The moment his pace picked up, indicating he’d seen the other guy, he shot…and hit the man in the right shoulder.
He stumbled, but didn’t fall and was reaching for his radio.
Jon reloaded and aimed again, hitting him in the other arm.
Bingo.
Down he went, right next to the other one.
He traded off for the shotgun again and swept the area with the scope, including behind him.
Come on, Mara. Come on…
* * *
MARA USED A GLASSCUTTER to create a hole large enough for her to reach in and unlock the window, then opened it and slid inside. The light wasn’t on in the living area of the cabin; it was coming from the bedroom. Unfortunately, that was exactly where she needed to go.
She checked her radio, then moved to the bedroom door that was slightly ajar.
A young woman lay across the bed, talking on a cell phone.
Butler’s latest girl, she had no doubt.
She wore an oversize man’s T-shirt, likely belonging to him. Mara winced at the thought she had done exactly the same thing.
At least a glimpse around verified it was still Butler’s cabin and not somebody else’s. His personal belongings were still everywhere, his pictures on the wall.
She considered her options.
Since she didn’t know who the woman was talking to, she didn’t want to bust in and risk it was someone within the compounds, which wasn’t too far of a stretch because once you were within the “family,” nothing else existed.
She eyed the front door a few feet away then made her way toward it. Taking a deep breath, she knocked three times in quick succession then ducked back into the shadows beside the bedroom door.
She heard a heavy sigh. “Hold on, Jenna, there’s somebody knocking.” Bedsprings squeaked. “Probably one of those stupid guards again. I swear, sometimes I feel I have more to fear from them…”
She came outside the room.
In a split-second decision, Mara grabbed the woman’s arm holding the cell phone then twisted it behind her, quickly bringing her other hand down over her mouth.
Within thirty seconds flat, she had her cuffed and locked in the closet, with tape over her mouth.
Butler was slipping. The women he chose usually had at least some skill. She would never have been such easy quarry.
Of course, none of that brought her any pleasure. In the end, they were all little more than temporary, expendable playthings.
She slipped inside the bedroom, took out dresser drawers then pulled the dresser itself back. She eyed the paneling, trying to remember how to access the door that hid the safe. She tried one way, then another with no luck.
“Screw it.”
She took out the twelve-inch serrated knife from the sheath strapped to her leg and forced the paneling open.
Then she stood staring at a different safe than she’d expected to find.
Damn.
Damn, damn, damn.
She crouched down to get a closer look, ignoring the kicks to the closet door that began along with muffled shouts.
She noted that while the safe was different, it still had a combination lock.
She smiled.
If Butler stayed true to form…
She tried his mix of numbers from his birthday, his dad’s birthday and the date he became “General.”
Nothing.
Damn.
She sat down heavily, tears flooding her eyes.
What was she going to do now? This was her only hope of clearing her name. Papers inside the safe proved that the federal prosecutor she was accused of killing had close ties with the group. And that he had refused to show special favor when Butler had pulled strings and managed to get his case before him.
Moreover, these were also proof that the new prosecutor was in Butler’s back pocket and had been for years.
Listlessly, she reached for the numbered knob again, hopelessly going through the numbers: 31-12-7.
She sat for long moments, her heart thudding loudly in her ears. Louder than the kicks to the closet door.
Her hand shaking, she reached for the handle…
It opened.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…
She opened the drawstring bag she’d brought along and started stuffing the appropriate folders inside, along with a few other items that might help her out. Or, at the very least, prevent her from finding herself in this predicament again.
Had she been thinking when she left years ago, she’d have done it then. So long as the group thought she had information that could bring them down stashed somewhere in the event something happened to her, she’d be safe.
Essentially, what was in the folders was a list of people with longtime ties to the group, ranging from local law enforcement to national politicians.
What would help free her now was the fact that the federal prosecutor who would replace the one she was framed for slaying was not only affiliated with the militia, he was a silent leader. Meaning Butler would be facing a “family member” and would likely be set free, despite the crimes of which he was accused.
She eyed the stack of cash…
She heard gunfire.
Shit!
Leaving everything as it was, she got to her feet and ran for the living-room window, hoping Reece was okay.
20
WHAT AN ORGY OF CHAOS.
One minute Jon had been focused on watching what he hoped was Mara’s silhouette against the backlit curtains in the cabin, the next all hell had broken loose.
Another guard had come up, this time from the opposite direction, so that he literally tripped over his two unconscious comrades.
Jon had no choice but to shoot.
And the moment he did, shadows emerged from everywhere. The single shot had reverberated through the forest walls like a call to war. Trigger happy, armed to the teeth, bloodthirsty shadows that lived and breathed for this shit.
Damn it, Mara. Where are you?
It was only a matter of time before his enemy combatants figured out two things—first, Butler’s cabin was the target, and second, his location from where he was sho
oting.
He dropped to the ground and reached for his radio.
“Mara! Get out! Now!”
He dropped the radio and took out two enemy targets charging the front of the cabin. He was so focused on protecting it, he nearly missed the other one coming up behind him. He rolled over and took him out at the same time the other guy fired. Dirt kicked up next to his arm where the bullet missed him by inches, spraying his face and covering the protective goggles he wore.
They were little more than stationary targets….
His heartbeat thundered over the nonstop flurry of bullets around him and his breathing was ragged though he hadn’t moved more than a few feet. But his mind wasn’t on the danger to himself, it was on Mara. Had she gained access to the cabin? Had it been her shadow he’d seen? Or was she still stuck outside, desperately trying to find a way in?
He stared at his silent radio.
He easily took out another man approaching the cabin. It was easy because taking out enemy combatants was his only mission. While Mara had an agenda that would distract her from other things. That’s why she needed him to provide backup.
Backup.
Damn it, he’d never truly believed he’d needed it.
In his head, he heard Darius Folsom, the Lazarus partner who had handed him this job. His words were as clear as if he was saying them next to him: “Backup is here if you need it.”
Jon’s silent response was that he wouldn’t.
He should have known he’d live to eat those words.
If something happened to Mara as a result of his stubbornness…
His heart beat harder.
Of course, contacting Lazarus for help now was out of the question. While he understood they had extensive contacts, he couldn’t trust that they’d get there in time.
But he knew of others who could.
He had no choice. There was more than himself at risk here. He had to do it.
For Mara.
He reached for his cell phone and inserted the battery, dialing the number he’d entered after he’d received it.
He spoke quietly but insistently. And was told help would arrive soon.
Ten minutes dragged by like an hour with no sight and no word from Mara, no sign of the barrage letting up and no alert that the backup he’d been promised was coming. He was running low on ammo and, damn it, they just seemed to keep coming.
The whoop-whoop of a helicopter sounded from above.
He knew a moment of relief so profound he nearly cheered.
The cavalry was here.
Or, rather, the FBI.
He’d never seen himself turning to them. And if he’d been alone, he never would have. But he wasn’t alone and he had. At the very least, they could create a diversion so he could get Mara and hightail it the hell out of there.
Ironic that he’d called in the very people he had been avoiding?
Your enemy’s enemy is your friend….
Of course, now he had to get Mara out of there before they could take her in.
He grabbed the last of his loaded shotguns and went mobile, tracing a wide arc around to the side of the cabin. He hoped against hope that she was holed up somewhere there, holding her own.
“Reece!”
He looked to his right to see Mara.
Thank God…
He realized she was trying to alert him to a presence to his left. He looked in time to see a bullet take a militia member out: Mara’s.
“Let’s go, go, go!” she said.
Running nearly back to back and firing along the way, they headed back the way they’d come.
It was rough going, with them having to stop every few feet to better launch a counterattack. They’d been discovered and reinforcements poured in, making progress slow.
Jon felt a blow to his lower chest. Air rushed from his lungs and a painful heat spiked outward from the point of impact. He’d been shot. Looked like that vest was coming in handy.
“You still with me, Reece?” Mara shouted.
He gritted his teeth. “Still here. Let’s move!”
Finally they were a few feet away from the fence when he saw the hole she’d made.
Is that what had alerted the others? Had a normal guard on his rounds come across the opening and put out the alert, bringing in more than usual guards sniffing around Butler’s place?
He sprayed the area and Mara ran through the exit, covering him so he could get through.
“Reece!” she shouted when he stopped. “What are you doing? We need to get out of here. Now!”
He reached for one item she hadn’t seen him pick up at Trent’s depot. He now removed the strap holding it to his inner calf, waited until the clearing filled then tossed the plastic explosive, hitting the detonation device right before it hit the ground.
The fallout would give them at least a five-minute lead.
Then they only had to worry about the FBI….
* * *
REECE RUSHED TO THE DRIVER’S door of the Blazer parked a mile up the road and Mara didn’t fight him. She couldn’t see well in the dark, but for all intents and purposes, no one appeared close on their heels. Reece’s explosive had mangled the fence, complicating the others’ exit. She climbed into the passenger’s side and secured herself in as the Blazer spit up the ground around them. Rather than head for the road they’d come in on, he headed east on the desert floor instead, a danger when it was broad daylight. In the dark of night…
She stared as a cloud budged from in front of the full moon, seeming to illuminate their way, then she turned to keep an eye on the ground behind them.
So far so good.
They drove in silence for a good long while. Ten minutes later, Reece pulled onto a road that ran parallel to the one he didn’t take. He headed south.
“Wow,” she said, her heart just beginning to stop thrashing against her rib cage.
Reece took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. “You can say that again. But we’re not out of the woods yet. Not by a long shot.”
“I know.”
Her hand kept going to her left upper thigh.
“You’re hit,” Reece said.
“What?”
She looked down then lifted her hand to find it coated in blood. She’d felt a stinging sensation but had assumed she’d caught a branch or something back at the compound.
“Just a flesh wound,” she said.
She was sure that was all it was. If it had been a bullet, she’d have known it.
She tore off a few inches from the bottom of her T-shirt and tied the fabric above the wound tightly to stanch the flow of blood. Then trained her eye on the back window.
Only, it appeared it was the front one she should have been watching.
“Damn.” She heard Reece’s low rumble.
She turned to see a familiar pickup truck approaching them in the opposite direction. She saw it pass…then hit the brakes, nearly sending the car behind it crashing into its backside.
Inside were the two militia members that had opened fire at the Winslow sheriff’s office.
“What are the odds?” she asked as Reece floored it.
“About a million to one. They must have gotten word and been heading back to the compound.”
“Yeah, and they caught us just as we were pulling out onto the road.”
“That means the Blazer’s been made.”
He shut off the lights and hung a right at the next crossroads, accelerating to a speed above ninety. He shut off the air conditioner, opened the windows and went faster yet.
They were out in the middle of nowhere where roads were few and places to hide even fewer.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” he said over the roa
r of the engine.
Mara peeled her gaze away from where the pickup had just turned after them.
“To get us out of that tight spot back there I called in the FBI, to create a distraction.”
She stared at him as if he’d gone nuts.
“So the two goons on our tail…”
He glanced at her. “Aren’t the only ones.”
Hell.
She’d wondered where the helicopter had come from. She’d worried the group had experienced a healthy influx of cash from a wealthy donor; Lord knew there were enough of them.
Instead, it had been the FBI.
The very people who wanted to see her stand trial for a crime she didn’t commit.
She felt for the bag tied to her gun belt.
“Did you get it?” Reece asked.
“Yeah. Now let’s see if I’m going to get a chance to use it….”
21
JON HATED THE LOOK on Mara’s face. He hated that what he’d said had put it there. And he hated that despite what they’d gone through—and were still facing—she was at risk.
He glanced at her bloodstained pants leg, his stomach wrenching at the thought of her being hurt: both physically and emotionally.
And knowing what he’d done may have very well caused more pain than the bullet that had grazed her.
The SUV coughed, bringing him back to the here and now. He fought to focus on the issue at hand. It was vastly important he get this right. The rest, well, the rest he’d have to work out on the other side.
If they emerged from the other side…
While the road ahead of them was currently clear, there were no guarantees it would stay that way. Unlike him, he had the feeling the two goons knew how to call for backup. And it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that he’d eventually blink to find someone in front of him as well as behind.
Possibly sooner rather than later. Which meant he had to figure a way out of this now.
He stared into the rearview mirror. He didn’t know what the pickup on their tail had under the hood, but it at least matched what the Blazer had. He wasn’t going to outrun these guys. Not out here, where turnoffs were few and open roads many.
There never seemed to be a big city around when you needed one….
Guilty Pleasures Page 12