Danger in Numbers

by Heather Graham

  Hunter slipped off the trail. The going was rough; he couldn’t make any noise, and the way was strewn with roots and vegetation.

  But neither could he take what was more than a trail; he’d be seen far too easily.

  Finally, he was almost within arm’s length of the man.

  He waited, he watched, for the bored swinging motion the man was making on his feet, to the left, to the right, to the left, to the right...

  To the left.

  Hunter sprang forward, strategically slamming the man hard on the head.

  The assault rifle fell just seconds before the man collapsed without a sound.

  Collecting the rifle, Hunter moved forward again.

  * * *

  The woods were large and thick—larger and thicker, Amy thought, than what Morrison’s population were capable of managing.

  She reached the outskirts of the clearing and made a careful observation.

  The clearing was almost a perfect circle. If it hadn’t been by nature, it had been made so by man.

  There were many people in the clearing, and for all appearances, it might have been a grassy square in any town, a park where people came to enjoy their leisure.

  Except that walking around the circumference of the circle were heavily armed men.

  She tried to get a good count, but they were moving...now and then pausing to look into the trees.

  There was a large rectangular altar in the center of the square.

  And on it, Billie lay, tied and sobbing.

  Morrison, in his bizarre robes, moved behind the table.

  “Oh, Amy! Amy, I grow tired of waiting! How can you be so special if you mean for this poor lonely girl to die in your place? I’m so disappointed in you, Amy! She needs you so desperately. And these good people will pray for you—you’ll be a sacrifice to the White Horse, you’ll honor all that was written. Because it’s coming, Amy. My people know that the Apocalypse is coming. They will be ready. You will perish in flames unless you are cleansed!”

  She listened to Morrison, weighing her next move.

  Then, on the far side of the circle, one of the men looked into the trees, stepped into the shady brush and suddenly disappeared.

  Amy waited; he didn’t reappear.

  Her backup was out there, as she had suspected. The FBI or the FDLE or both. She needed to give them time.

  As she watched, another man disappeared.

  She remembered that she held Jayden Colby’s rifle. The damned thing might not even fire cleanly, and if she went in shooting, so very many would die.

  Hunter must be among the men on the outskirts, trying to pick off the guards. It was a good plan; it was the best plan if they were to keep the day from becoming a massacre.

  “Amy, God is patient, but now is the time.”

  Another one of the armed men took a walk onto a trail.

  And silently disappeared.

  All she had to do was wait.

  But even as she willed herself to bide her time, Morrison suddenly raised his arms. He held between his hands a pointed, razor-sharp blade, one that caught the sunlight and cast off a wicked glint.

  “It is time. She will wear the horns of Satan and thus enter into death as a great sacrifice!” Morrison shouted.

  Children no longer played. Along with their parents, they had fallen to their knees, facing the altar.

  He was going to strike; Amy couldn’t wait any longer.

  She walked out of the trees, making a point of aiming the rifle at Morrison’s heart as she strode toward the man and the altar.

  “You say you only need one sacrifice?” she asked. “Then here I am!”

  She heard the cocking of guns as they were turned on her.

  “Shoot me, go ahead.” She kept walking forward, gaining ground on Morrison. “But I promise you, I’ll have time to fire. You’ll be dead, too.”

  Morrison stared at her, his face red with fury. She knew he’d realized she’d got close enough to him that she couldn’t miss her shot.

  He moved his sacrificial weapon down, and for a second, Amy thought that he meant to strike Billie.

  But he slit the ropes binding her.

  Billie lay still, only her chest moving with her sobs.

  “Get up, ugly she-goat!” Morrison said, pushing her from the altar. Billie fell, but then she gained her feet. She looked around.

  “Billie, go!” Amy urged.

  She ran off into the trees.

  “Now, Amy? Shoot me or get over here. Billie can’t run that fast. You put the rifle down, or we take her.”

  “Wait!”

  Amy was as startled as Morrison and the whole of his congregation as a new voice sounded from the trees, rich and loud and forceful.

  Hunter.

  He walked calmly out into the circle.

  He didn’t appear to be armed.

  “Wait. Please wait. We’ll find Billie again. Amy is special. Imagine her becoming one of your disciples,” he said, coming up to Amy.

  His eyes met hers. She saw the plea in them.

  Trust me.

  “I’ve been on the fringes. No, in fact, I’ve been trying to get to you, Divine Leader. I want in. I want to be part of this...this greater glory. We can be assets that you can’t begin to imagine. Let me do it—I’ll get Billie back for you.”

  Morrison stared at him, stunned.

  “You?” He started to shake his head.

  Amy dared take her eyes off Morrison for a second, glancing around the clearing. More of the men on the outskirts had disappeared.

  “You need me—you need good men. And imagine breaking a woman like Amy, letting her learn what her place is, what it is to learn to honor you!” Hunter said.

  Hunter’s ploy might not work, but it was buying time.

  Then someone else broke into the clearing, shouting.

  “No, no, he’s FBI! He’s out to ruin everything. He’s... Kill him!” It was Casey Colby.

  “Casey!” Morrison shouted angrily. “You’re supposed to be at the car!”

  “No! No, kill him, kill them!”

  But the distraction she caused gave Hunter what he needed; he leaped to the other side of the altar in split seconds, seizing the blade from Morrison and bringing it to his throat.

  “No!” Casey screeched, leaping forward, ready to tackle Hunter and claw, kick or do anything to drag him away.

  It wasn’t happening, Amy thought. Supposedly, sweet innocent Casey wasn’t getting away with it.

  She threw herself after the girl, grabbing her by the arm and spinning her around. And then she caught her in the jaw with her very best right hook.

  Casey went down.

  Hunter had swung Morrison around and was speaking to him in an urgent whisper. “Tell them to drop their weapons.”

  “No, no!” Morrison raged. “They will die! They know the truth—”

  Hunter shouted to the crowd. “The truth? This man wants you to die for him. Not for the great glory of God, and not to save your souls. You are pawns to him. I’ve been here, trust me—you are pawns, and there is no reason that anyone should die.”

  Guns were aimed at him and Amy. There were still six armed men positioned around the clearing, but the agents hiding in the trees had been taking many of them out, silently, one by one.

  “Live! You have the right to live,” Hunter said. “What turned you? A great God is a loving God! Live, love your children. Let them live, and have a life!”

  One gun went down. And then another. The men exchanged confused glances. Some of the women in the clearing grabbed and held their children, as if they’d only just realized the danger their families might be in.

  The last of the guns aimed at them went down.

  Someone started crying loudly.

  Step
ping out from the trees, the rest of the agents moved in. There was a small army of law enforcement. Roger Dawson was with them, and Ryan Anders.

  And Detective Mulberry. Morrison had clearly ordered his followers to cast suspicion on him. And they had almost fallen for it.

  He was a good cop.

  Ellison was there, too.

  Seeing them all, Amy felt a strange swelling inside. Yes, there were men like Morrison out there.

  But there were men and women like these agents and officers and detectives.

  And it was good to be among them.

  Hunter shoved Morrison to the ground and waited for another agent to come in and cuff him.

  Then he turned to Amy.

  Shaking now, she threw herself into his arms.

  “Billie!” she said. “We have to find Billie!”

  “They have her already,” he assured her. He turned and watched as agents dragged a cuffed Morrison to his feet.

  For a minute, Morrison stared at him. His eyes widened, then narrowed with hatred.

  “I know you! You’re that stinking little brat, Cameron!”

  “I was,” Hunter said.

  He turned to Amy with a smile. “They’ve got this—let’s get out of here.”

  She smiled. They’d worked hard, with their hearts, minds and souls.

  And now, it was over.

  Well, due to the lives they had chosen, it was never over.

  But over for now.

  And it was time for a break.

  She knew that they would spend it together.

  EPILOGUE

  Fall, present day

  Sam

  Sam leaned against a tree at the resort in the Bahamas, relaxed, smiling, as he watched his son.

  He felt the pleasant bark of the tree against his flesh and thought of how good life had become.

  His son stood at the end of the dock, laughing as he and Amy prepared to jump into the water for their dolphin dive. One of the dolphins was entertaining visitors with all kinds of antics, enjoying people even as people enjoyed him.

  Hunter Forrest.

  It was a good name. And his son was a good man.

  Admittedly, he had worried about his son’s future now and then. Not as far as his career went; Hunter had made his choice. Life had guided him, and he had determined that he would serve others, first in the military, and then as an FBI agent.

  It could have gone so differently.

  Of course, Sam didn’t know everything. He did know that both Hunter and Amy had received commendations; they had taken down murderers in the middle of cult activity without losing a single life. Not a shot had been fired.

  The team had been commended, as well. Their actions, so well played, had taken out a great deal of the firepower, allowing for the positive end result.

  There were multiple arrests, and they had Ethan Morrison on multiple charges. The case against him was strong, and horrifying. With any luck, Morrison would rot in prison for the rest of his days.

  It would take Pastor Jared Colby a long time to recover, and he would have to test his own faith if he was ever to find forgiveness for his children, and thus for himself.

  There were a few who had gone to the hospital.

  Both his son and Amy seemed to know how to incapacitate the enemy.

  Which brought him back to being grateful. Hunter had spent his first years in a cult that had been every bit as scary as the one he had just broken. It hadn’t been about religion; religions—many different religions—had saved many people. It had been a deadly desire for power and money—going how high, they were lucky they would never now know.

  Morrison’s sons would go to prison or worse—they were facing charges in a death-penalty state and might face federal charges, too.

  Sam remembered back—when Ethan Morrison had gone by a different name, too. When he’d been young, but always basking in his father’s position with Brother William, always planning on being a leader himself.

  Life was funny.

  Everything could have been over all too quickly.

  Or have gone in a very different direction.

  Despite the admirable route Hunter had chosen, Sam had feared for him. He’d taken on a risky job. But that honestly hadn’t been Sam’s main fear. He’d been afraid that Hunter would never meet the right person for him in life. Someone who was fun, who could laugh and care for others.

  And someone who could be just as tough and kick-ass as Hunter was.

  Now, watching them, Sam felt that there was a touch of magic between Hunter and Amy.

  He knew that magic himself.

  Through anger, through fear, through trials and tribulations, through joy, of course—the birth of their son had brought them joy. Watching him grow had always been magic.

  And today, Sam loved his wife just as much as he ever had. No matter what life had brought them, Jessie had made it more bearable during the tough times, more wonderful during the good days they’d been so blessed to have.

  He watched as he saw that Amy’s parents and her brother were heading out to the dock; they weren’t going to be part of the swim, but Amy’s brother had promised—or threatened—to take the most ridiculous pictures of the two of them that he could.

  As he watched, his wife—his love, his life—joined him at the tree.

  “Well, Jessie-Connie,” he said, addressing her as he did sometimes when others couldn’t hear them. “What do you think?”

  She laughed, leaning against him as he swept his arms around her.

  “Strange vacation!” she said. “They asked us and Amy’s family. I mean, this is a beautiful place. So romantic! You’d have thought that...well, you know. That they’d want to be here alone.”

  He laughed softly. “You do know that her family is leaving tonight—we’re flying together to Miami, and then we’ll head on home from there.”

  “Right, so—”

  “Hunter and Amy aren’t coming home tonight. They’re here another week.”

  “They’re pretty special, huh?”

  Sam looked at the dock again. “They wanted us all to meet. I guess that means they plan on being together for a while.”

  “It’s going to be difficult,” his wife said worriedly. “I mean, they’re both special agents, but they’re based in two different places. Long-distance relationships...”

  “I have a feeling that they’ll figure it out,” Sam said.

  “Look, there they go!”

  He smiled as he looked toward the water. Hunter and Amy were positioned on the side of the dock. As he watched, Amy swam out and, in seconds, a dolphin swam by. She grabbed onto a fin, and the dolphin took her for a sweeping ride around the lagoon.

  Hunter was next.

  After “dancing” with the dolphins and taking part in other behaviors, the session came to an end with the group stroking the dolphin, getting “kisses” and saying goodbye.

  Hunter was out of the water, coming toward them, hand in hand with Amy.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t want to do that,” Hunter told his father.

  He smiled at his son, feeling a swell of pride again. He’d grown up tall and strong and handsome and, at the moment, looked like any other young man out with the girl he loved. Beautiful Amy, strong and sweet and more: good. Really good. She was someone who hadn’t become jaded to the world, but was ready to fight the wrongs within it.

  “We just wanted to watch you,” Sam said.

  “Okay, then, lunch in twenty,” Hunter told him.

  They met up with Amy’s folks and her brother, and the five of them made their way slowly to the charming little thatch-roofed outdoor restaurant where they’d grab lunch before heading to the airport.

  Sam was glad that he liked Amy’s family so much. Of course, that would have little to
do with his son making choices, but still, it was nice.

  Soon they were seated and the kids—well, Hunter and Amy—joined them. They laughed and talked, and at times grew serious. Amy said, “Oh!” suddenly, and was happy to tell everyone that Billie—whose name was Wilhelmina Ferrer—was being helped and that she had an advocate and would likely be able to remain in the United States.

  “She will be an amazing citizen!” Amy said.

  They all agreed.

  Lunch went on, and it was so good to be all together as a family.

  And again, Sam was grateful.

  * * *

  “They’re off!” Hunter said to Amy, joining her on a sun lounger under a big parasol.

  The resort they had chosen, making use of online coupons, was spectacular.

  The first days after the takedown in the woods had been nonstop busy with depositions and debriefs. But while they did paperwork with their separate agencies, the main work was done. They were able to have a long dinner with those who had worked so closely with them—Roger and Detectives Ellison and Mulberry—and express their appreciation.

  Amy and he had both gotten to spend time with John Schultz and Sheila via satellite and express their appreciation there, as well.

  Then they found out they had two weeks’ leave. Each agency had given them two weeks!

  All they had to do was plan it.

  The future could be difficult to fathom. Hunter had suggested that he could transfer down to an office in Florida; that was one option. She could leave the FDLE and most certainly pass all requirements to join the FBI. They had to consider their decisions carefully.

  They just knew that they had something, and they didn’t want to lose it.

  She wasn’t sure how they’d come about thinking that their families should meet—maybe because they’d grown tired of trying to describe each other to their families.

  Amy’s parents had just arrived home from one trip and gamely packed up for another. Hunter’s had been happy to come.

  Her brother had wheeled and dealed for the vacation time.