What a fucked-up operation. They needed to get out of here.
Nabera glared at the five buildings. The bastards had destroyed the compound. The Prophet. The movement.
His life.
Humiliation was an ugly taste in his mouth. He and his men wouldn’t run from the assholes like whipped curs.
He’d rather die.
As the floodlights went out, leaving the area in darkness, Nabera scowled. Were the off and on lights a deliberate plan or a problem with the electric lines?
No matter.
How could he turn this fiasco around? The group in Idaho paying their way had expected him to net several women. Kidnapping and selling the Mayor Lillian as well as the wives and girlfriends of the men who’d attacked the Zealots’ compound would have been an effective demonstration. Selling two people—one of them a man—wouldn’t bring much money. Even worse, Idaho would be less than impressed with the night’s work. Would they renege on their agreement? Dammit. He and his men needed new IDs and a way out of Alaska.
Nabera eyed the Hermitage buildings. They had a stand-off—and the Zealots had a time limit.
The men in there wouldn’t hand over the escaped women—their women—in exchange for Nabera’s hostages. However…it was doubtful they cared about the three politicians. Would they agree to that exchange?
The Idaho militia would be more than satisfied if Nabera made the libtard state representative women disappear.
“Conrad, that bitch in the van.” He had to raise his voice over the snapping of gunfire and the occasional cry of pain from his men. “Does she have a man in those houses?”
“Yeah. That’d be Bull. He owns the roadhouse. And my boss who’s tied up with her?” Conrad smirked. “That’s Hawk—Bull’s brother.”
Brother and girlfriend. Yeah, the Hermitage might go for an exchange.
“Tell the men to stop shooting.”
Conrad pulled out his phone.
As the gunfire decreased to sporadic firing from the houses, Nabera yanked open the back of the van.
For fuck’s sake. The prisoners were back-to-back, trying to untie each other.
Grabbing the woman’s leg, Nabera dragged her away from the man. “Bull!” he shouted loud enough to be heard inside the distant buildings. “Bull, let’s talk!”
The defenders stopped firing a few seconds later. They obviously had some way of communicating in there.
“Talk,” came a deep bellow.
“I got your pretty girlfriend. Frankie, right?” He drew his K-bar knife. The light from the quarter moon barely penetrated the back of the van, but he could see how the bitch glared at him.
Not going to cooperate? There were ways.
Nabera pulled Hawk sideways, ensuring he couldn’t kick, then ripped his shirt open.
“Watch this, bitch.” He cut a deep groove across the man’s gut—and the tough bastard didn’t make a sound.
In the dim light, the pooling blood looked black against his skin, and Frankie let out a choking scream. “No!”
Nabera held the blade up. “You need to yell ‘Bull’ real loud, or I’ll poke so many holes in this bastard’s gut that no surgeon will be able to repair him.”
Horror filled her expression. She sucked in a breath and let loose. “Bull!”
“Yep. That should do it.” Seeing the blood dripping off his knife, Nabera had to fight the craving to finish the job.
Not yet.
He shouted to the buildings, “Bull. I have Hawk too. I’ll trade them for the three bitches—the state representatives. Do it, or I’ll cut these two to pieces. You’ll hear them screaming. Before they die.”
“Nooo.” Even though Regan’s voice had only come out a thin whisper, she clapped her hands over her mouth. That…that horrible man would kill Frankie and Uncle Hawk?
Beside her in Hawk’s bedroom, Aric whimpered.
She put her arm around him. He was only a little kid. He shouldn’t be hearing this.
But it wasn’t her fault he was here. He’d snuck out, and the women hadn’t seen him…or seen Regan following him. In the tunnel, he’d run really fast, and when she caught him, he wouldn’t go back.
He’d wanted into Hawk’s house—and, okay, like she really wanted to see what was going on, too, and she knew the code to open the door. When Papá taught her the emergency drills, she’d learned the passwords.
Aric shivered as he peeked out the window. “That was Captain Nabera,” he whispered. “Is Hawk in the white car?”
“The big van?” Regan bit her lip. Frankie’s scream had come from that way. “I guess.”
“The captain’s gonna kill him.” Aric was shaking harder. “Will somebody go get him ‘n’ Frankie away? Your dad?”
Regan studied the van. No trees around it, no buildings. Just really short bushes and tall grass. Even Papá couldn’t sneak there. Maybe if he crawled on his belly, but that’d take forever.
They didn’t have forever.
She and Aric were a lot littler than Papá. “We could get there.” Maybe. Now she was shaking too. “We’re good at sneaking.”
“We can’t get past the fence.” Camo paint still streaking his face, Aric stared down at the bare road.
“Can.” Papá was going to kill her for leaving. She’d be doing pushups, like, forever. “One end of the tunnel comes out on the other side of the fence.”
“’Kay,” Aric whispered.
She peeked in Hawk’s nightstand. If he was like Papá… He was. A sheathed knife lay in the top drawer. “Here. Just in case.”
Aric shoved it into a pocket of his camo pants.
She already had the folding knife Papá had given her. Because she was smart and careful and responsible.
He’d probably take her knife away now.
“My Hawk. No, no, no.” Kit’s hands on the rifle trembled, and she pulled in a breath. The small attic room was filled with the acrid, smoky stench of gunpowder. “I’ll kill Nabera.”
As if she could. Her shooting wasn’t exactly accurate.
“Too far away,” came Sarah’s whisper.
Kit gritted her teeth. Sarah was right.
The white van was past Gabe’s house at the other end of the semicircle on the road coming in. It was almost to the forest, but not quite. The captain must have been the last to arrive.
He was too far away to shoot. Probably too far for anyone except Hawk, who supposedly could hit anything he could see in a scope. The captain hadn’t come close to the houses—he wouldn’t take the same risks as his troops.
Nabera had Hawk. And Frankie. The knowledge was so painful she set the rifle down.
Four of the PZs ran from the SUVs toward the white van. She closed her eyes in despair. With the location of Frankie and Hawk known, Nabera would set guards there.
Damn him.
In her headset, she heard Gabe, Caz, and Bull talking.
“I’ll tell Nabera I want to meet him outside to discuss the exchange,” Bull said. “I can agree, then stall by working out precautions for the exchange.”
Gabe said, “Tell him to work out a way that no one knows we turned the women over. He’d understand your reasoning.”