“If you keep his attention, I can try to get Hawk and Frankie loose. But there isn’t much cover.” Caz sounded worried. “And not enough time to go slow. I’ll have to take out those four guards too.”
Gabe said, “Even if they don’t see the guards drop, Hawk and Frankie will be seen when you try to leave. If they can even move.”
Kit stiffened. How badly might Hawk and Frankie have been hurt?
The captain—of course, he’d hurt them.
We have to get Hawk and Frankie away from him.
“Nabera will expect us to try something; he’ll be watching,” Bull agreed. “I’ll try to keep his attention, but—”
“I’ll set up somewhere in the brush where I can take out Nabera or the guards on the van, if needed.” Gabe made a growling sound. “This is a forlorn hope, guys.”
A forlorn hope. Hawk’s westerns had told her the term meant a suicidal assault. A bunch of men sent right into the kill zone.
Kit scrubbed her damp palms over her face.
Even though Caz was completely silent in the forest, he couldn’t hide when there wasn’t any cover. Especially if Nabera was suspicious. And if their captain was watching, the guards would be especially attentive too.
What would pull Nabera’s attention away from the van? Could Bull do something— Her thoughts stuttered to a halt.
There was a guaranteed way to keep Nabera’s focus. Her whole body shook in protest of the idea.
All she’d ever wanted was to stay as far from Nabera as possible.
She had to swallow twice before her voice would work. “Guys, I have an idea.”
Nabera watched as two people came out of the closest log house and strolled toward him as if the guns of his men weren’t targeting them. As if they had all the time in the world.
They were stalling, the bastards.
In a blinding wave of light, the floodlights came on. It made it easy to see the two walking down the road. Halfway to him, in the long stretch between the cargo van and the line of SUVs, they stopped and waited.
The location was logical, forcing him to join them, so anyone with a firearm would be able to shoot negotiators.
Here at the cargo van, he was safe.
He didn’t like putting himself at risk.
Damn them. Time was running out. The landslides across the roads wouldn’t keep the state troopers away too long.
With Rescue’s Chief of Police inside the Hermitage, there was undoubtedly something planned. Not that he could do anything. There was a Zealot stationed on each side of the van.
At the open back door, Conrad was saying to Hawk, “You fucking bastard. Even if we trade you, I’ll hamstring you before we let you go. You won’t walk so high and mighty then, boss.”
Mood lightened, Nabera laughed. “Come, Conrad. Join the men and take charge of them while I negotiate.”
When his lieutenant’s face fell, Nabera added, “I’ll make sure you get a moment with Hawk before handing him over.”
Grinning, Conrad joined him.
Nabera turned to one of the van’s guards. “They were trying to untie each other. Leave the door open so you can check on them as you patrol.”
“Yes, sir.” The man scowled at the prisoners. “If they try it again, I’ll cut their fingers off.”
“Good man.” A minute later, Nabera and Conrad passed the two guards stationed between the houses and the van. They’d watch for anyone leaving the houses.
Nabera nodded to them. “Stay vigilant, men.”
They both straightened. “Yes, sir.”
A grim satisfaction filled Nabera. No one would get past his men.
As Conrad continued forward to take command of the Zealots at the SUVs, Nabera veered toward the two waiting people.
Built like a tank, Bull was the owner of the roadhouse.
The person beside him was much smaller. Had they really brought a woman to negotiate? Unbelievable. Was it one of the state representative bitches?
No, this woman was younger. Golden-brown hair, average height, obviously terrified.
A second later, he recognized her…and grinned.
She should be terrified. Anticipation filled him to overflowing, and his dick shot to attention.
The woman was Obadiah’s wife. Kirsten. No matter what they negotiated, she wouldn’t be returning to the Hermitage. Not alive.
Caz silently opened the tunnel door and exited into an area of thick underbrush. Only a week or so ago, he and Regan had been out here, cleaning up the area, after he’d shown her how to use the tunnel system and locks.
Crouching in the darkness and bushes, he looked around. Behind him was Gabe’s house and past it, one of the SUVs on the road. Farther to the west, toward the forest was the white van. Ya valió madres.
Sí, no doubt about it, their plan was fucked. There was a good chance he wouldn’t return from this. Wouldn’t see his little girl or JJ again.
At least his women would live. JJ loved Regan and would raise her.
From shadow to shadow, from cover to cover, he eased away from the buildings toward the white van. The area around the lake held a fair amount of reeds and bushes, but closer to the road? Just short shrubs and grasses. Too short.
In the quiet night, Bull’s deep voice boomed, even louder than normal.
Kit’s higher tones were clear and understandable even where he was. “You are the stupidest person. How did you ever get to be captain?”
Caz saw her gesturing emphatically, making herself the center of attention. Risking herself for Frankie…and for Hawk.
You found a fine woman, mi hermano. Now, let’s get you free to have a lifetime to love her.
As the guards turned to watch Bull and Kit confront their captain, Caz gained another few feet.
Reaching the last decent-sized clump of bushes, he went down on one knee and paused.
There was no cover, and the quarter moon was high in the sky. Even with Kit and Bull drawing attention, the guards would eventually remember to scan the area.
However, the floodlights didn’t reach this far and watching the brightly lit negotiations would destroy the PZs’ night vision. Quickly, he mapped out a possible route that’d require him to belly-crawl for part of the way.
A stealthy movement in the stubby brush close to the van caught his attention. Was that a raccoon?
No, no. It was a small boy crawling through the thicker clumps of grass in the drainage ditch beside the dirt road. On the same route was a girl.
His girl.
As terror swept through him, his jaw clenched to prevent his curses from spilling out like a furious fountain.
Following the plan, Regan finally reached the road and crept beneath the white van. She was trying to breathe without making any noise, and her hands were scraped and burned like fire. Her camo jeans were all ripped up.
And she was so scared. I want Papá. Tears stung her eyes, but she couldn’t cry.
The little shadow that was Aric moved closer to the back of the van. He was in place.
Mouth tight, she got out her knife and opened it. Her job was to be the distraction. And even attack if she had to.
Down by the houses, Kit was yelling again, and Bull’s shout was even louder. The noise they made didn’t quite hide the tiny creak from the van as Aric slipped inside.