Love Inspired Suspense June 2015 - Box Set 2 of 2: Exit Strategy\Payback\Covert Justice (4 page)

A dog howled. A second joined it.

Lark's grip tightened and she glanced over her shoulder, her hair flying out in a mass of tangled curls. He should have made her tie it back, because it was bound to get caught on branches and limbs as they moved through the dense forest. There wasn't time now.

“Looking back isn't going to change anything,” he said quietly.

“It's going to keep me from being surprised when the dogs lunge.”

“They're still in the compound.”

“They won't be for long.”

“Which is the best reason for moving forward instead of looking back.”

“Stop being reasonable and smart, Cyrus. It's annoying when I'm working up to full-out panic.” She slid her arms through his coat sleeves, her hands trembling as she tried to zip it. He brushed her fingers away, had the zipper up in seconds.

“If you panic, we're both sunk, so you're going to have to hold things together until we get somewhere safe.”

“I don't know how safe River Fork is. The town has ties with Amos Way.”

“Do they?” That was something he hadn't known, and it wasn't something he was happy to hear.

“Elijah grew up there. His half brother is the town sheriff.”

“You think he's dirty?” He shoved through thick foliage, holding back a heavy pine bough as Lark stepped past.

“I don't know. He ran the investigation into my husband's death.”

“And ruled it accidental?”

“Yes.”

“You think he was covering up for someone?”

She hesitated. “I don't know. He presented his findings to me and my in-laws. It all sounded good.”

“But?”

“Maybe I just don't want to think my husband could have been careless enough to clean a loaded rifle.”

“Or maybe Elijah's brother helped him get away with murder?”

She didn't respond.

He wasn't sure if she was thinking about her answer or if she was too tired to speak. Her breath panted out, hoarse and raspy and a little too ragged for his liking. They had a long way to go. All of it on foot. If she couldn't make it, he'd have no choice but to stay and fight. He didn't have enough firepower to have any hope of success against Elijah's security team.

He'd try, though.

If he had to.

He prayed he wouldn't, the words forming and taking flight before he'd even realized the depth of his desperation. He wanted out of the woods and away from Amos Way, he wanted a safe place to hunker down and come up with a plan. He might not know what was going on in Elijah Clayton's religious utopia, but he planned to find out. When he did, he'd take the man and his followers down without a second thought or a moment of regret.

There were too many wounded people in the world searching for places to belong. Amos Way wasn't the kind of place they should end up, because it was the kind of place people never returned from. In his estimation, that was the kind of place that should be shut down for good, and he was just the kind of guy to do it.

Behind them, a dog howled, the sound too close for comfort.

A man shouted something, and Cyrus grabbed Lark's hand, dragging her into a full-out run.

FOUR

S
he wasn't going to make it. Not if they had to run the seventy miles to town. Lark was as sure of that as she was that Elijah's men were closing in on them. She could hear voices in the distance, dogs barking. They had a head start, but it wasn't enough of one.

“We need to split up,” she managed to gasp, the words rasping out into the chilly night air.

“That would be a stupid decision, and I don't make those,” Cyrus responded. No emotion in his voice. No sign that he was stressed, worried or frantic. He didn't even seem winded. Whatever HEART was, whatever his job before he'd come to Amos Way, the guy was cool as a cucumber and in top physical shape.

“It wouldn't be stupid for you. Without me holding you back, you can probably outmaneuver Elijah's men.”

“I'm not here for me. I'm here for you, and I'm not leaving you behind.” He veered to the left, seemed to be leading them back toward the compound, and Lark had a moment of doubt, a moment when she wondered if his help was all just some bizarre game that Elijah wanted to play.

She stopped, her body trembling with fatigue and adrenaline. All she wanted was to find a way out of the woods and back home. She wanted to walk into her little apartment, sit on the love seat she'd bought when she'd moved back to Baltimore, forget that she'd come to Amos Way for a reason and that she hadn't fulfilled it.

She couldn't do it, though.

Not even after they got out of the woods.

If
they got out.

Cyrus was suddenly in front of her, his hand on her upper arm. “We need to keep moving.”

“Not if it means going back where we came from. I may be in bad shape, but I know we're heading toward the compound.”

“You hear the dogs behind us?” he asked as if there were some way she couldn't. The hounds were howling, their frantic barks warning that they'd caught the scent of their prey.

“Yes. And, I don't want to walk into them. Which is what we're going to do if we turn around.”

“Trust me, Lark, I don't want to run into them either. We're going to do a wide arc around the compound and come out in front of it. If we're careful, we should be able to get into the garage and hot-wire one of the cars.”

It sounded good. If it was true, it was a reasonable plan. Probably the best chance they had of escaping. She didn't like it, though. She'd finally gotten out of the compound. She didn't want to be anywhere near it again. Didn't want to risk being caught and dragged back. If she was, there'd be no second chances at escape.

“Lark,” Cyrus growled, the edge in his voice coinciding with the sounds of pursuit that seemed to fill the woods. “We don't have time for this. You want to freak out and do your own thing, wait until we've got a few dozen miles between ourselves and this place.” He grabbed her hand, and she let him pull her into an all-out run. Somehow, he managed to avoid crashing through foliage, snapping branches and making the noise she seemed to be making. She wanted to tell him to slow down so she could move more quietly, but her lungs burned, her throat so dry from heaving breaths that she couldn't get the words out.

He slowed abruptly, going from a dead run to a walk, leading her through a small thicket that she'd been in one night a lifetime ago. She looked up as they passed through, saw the same starry night sky that she'd seen when she and Joshua had lain on a wool blanket and talked about their future and their dreams. She shivered, her teeth chattering and her body shaking.

“It's okay,” Cyrus whispered so quietly, she almost didn't hear him.

The words weren't comforting.

She would have told him that if they hadn't been closing in on the compound. She could see it up ahead. Someone had turned on the generator that powered searchlights. A beacon for the lost, Elijah had explained when she'd questioned the positioning of the lights, the fact that they illuminated the woods that surrounded the compound rather than the compound itself.

She hadn't believed it.

There'd been a lot she hadn't believed. A lot she'd wanted to believe.

She'd believed in Joshua, though. She'd believed that what they'd had would last a lifetime. She'd believed they'd have decades together, that they'd share thousands of wonderful memories.

Cyrus's grip on her hand tightened, and he tugged her close, wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Hold it together, Lark.” He breathed into her ear, the words ruffling her hair and pulling her from the memories.

She jerked away, put some space between them.

She had no idea who Cyrus really was.

She only knew what he'd told her. Words were easy and they were cheap. They were lies nearly as often as they were truths. She'd learned that the hard way, and she wasn't going to forget it. She was sticking with Cyrus because the only other option was going it alone, and she had about as much chance of surviving that as she did of taking a vacation on the moon.

He didn't pull her back, didn't tell her to stay close as they slipped through the forest just out of reach of the spotlights. They should be hurrying. The dogs would be tracking their scent back toward the compound soon. When they did, their handlers would report back, let John and Elijah know that their prey was returning.

Cyrus had to know that, but he moved like they had all the time in the world.

“We need to hurry,” she whispered, the words pushed past the hot lump in her throat.

“We need to be quiet,” he responded.

“The dogs—”

“Shhhhhh!” he warned as they stepped out of the trees and onto a dirt road shrouded in shadows. No spotlights here, but she knew exactly where they were. Up ahead, the garage stood in the middle of a cleared field. No trees. No bushes to hide their approach. It seemed like an eternity since she'd driven her car across the clearing, parked it in the far left bay, handed her keys to her father-in-law. She'd planned to stay two weeks. Tops. She was closing in on three months. Was the car still there? Or had Elijah gotten rid of it? He sure hadn't planned to let her return home. She knew that. Did her father-in-law? Her mother-in-law?

“See that tree?” Cyrus motioned to a huge pine tree that jutted up from the edge of the forest. “I want you to wait there.”

“For what?”

“I'm going to get in the garage and hot-wire a car. It's going to take a few minutes.”

“Minutes?”

“I've done this a couple of times,” he responded, giving her a gentle push toward the tree. “Hurry up. We're running out of time.”

“I'm coming with you.” No way was she going to stand near a pine tree, hoping for the best. If Cyrus got in the garage and managed to start a car, she planned to be right there with him.

“It's too dangerous,” he insisted, his eyes flashing in the darkness.

“For me but not for you?”

“For both of us, but it's my job to take the risk.”

“We're wasting time arguing about it.” She headed across the clearing, heard him mutter something under his breath as he followed.

* * *

Cyrus wanted to drag Lark back to the tree line, but she was right. They were wasting time. The garage was just ahead, dark and silent. No sign that anyone was nearby. He snagged the back of Lark's sweater. “Let me take the lead.”

She nodded, moving to his left, letting him walk a few steps ahead. In the distance, the dogs barked frantically. How long before one of Elijah's men realized that he and Lark had headed back toward the compound? The young guys were mostly paramilitary thugs who had delusions of grandeur. Trained in underground militia groups, they had no idea how to track deer let alone human beings. They were dogged, though, and he doubted they had much in the way of moral codes. Loyalty to the highest bidder. That seemed to be the theme of Elijah's security force. That made the men unpredictable and not easy to control. That was one of the reasons Cyrus had been invited into the group. His military training gave him a leg up, his experience making him perfect leadership material in John's eyes. Getting inside the compound had been easy. Getting out was going to be complicated. He'd gotten out of worse situations, but he'd always had a team to back him up.

He reached the six-bay garage. The lock was rudimentary. Elijah obviously wasn't all that worried about having vehicles stolen. Why would he be? They were out in the middle of nowhere, the citizens of Amos Way were followers who seemed to like the strict rules they lived by.

Lark touched his arm, her fingers light and tentative. “I parked my car in the far left bay. It's an old Ford Mustang. I didn't lock the doors. Should be pretty easy to hot-wire, if you know how.”

He did. He also knew how to pick locks, hack into computer systems and pretend to be a hundred people he wasn't.

It took seconds to open the garage bay. The building was filled with cars, each bay four or five cars deep. He didn't use his flashlight. No sense calling attention to themselves. But he could see the hulking bodies of a few old trucks and several ancient Cadillacs.

Lark's Mustang was a 1967 muscle car. Not practical for the kind of dirt road driving that was required to reach the compound. The doors were unlocked, and she climbed in the passenger seat, silent, pensive. He could feel her anxiety as he went to work, could feel his own anxiety building. Every beat of his heart was a reminder that time was ticking away, that Elijah's men would circle back around eventually. Probably sooner than Cyrus would like, sooner than he needed them to.

He took a utility knife from his belt, opened the ignition switch on the car. His hands were steady, his mind focused, but he could hear the dogs in the background. They were getting closer.

He stripped the wires, held them together.

The engine started, and he stepped on the gas, revved it.

It coughed and sputtered. Stalled out.

“Come on,” he muttered, touching the wires again, repeating the process.

The engine sputtered, died. Again.

“We need to get out of here,” Lark said, an edge of panic in her voice.

She was right, but going on foot wasn't going to work.

Elijah's men were too well armed and too determined to stop them. He didn't let himself lose focus, couldn't allow himself to think of anything but that moment. Touching the wires together again, revving the engine. It caught the fourth time, kept running as he put the car into gear.

“Thank you, God,” Lark whispered.

Cyrus almost told her that they weren't home free yet, that they had a long way to go before they were safe.

No sense raining on her parade.

Or scaring her more than she already was.

He let the car roll out of the garage, knowing that the sound of tires and engine would carry on the quiet night air. Out here, there were no cars driving by, no traffic creating white noise. There was nothing but the sound of nature. When that was interrupted, everyone in the community noticed it.

As soon as he cleared the garage, he stepped on the gas. The car responded immediately, jumping forward with so much speed the tires spun. It was a nice ride. One Cyrus would have appreciated more if he weren't expecting trouble.

He knew they were only minutes ahead of their pursuers. If Cyrus was fast enough, he'd have just enough time to get to the end of the dirt road before the security team caught up. Once they hit the paved road, it was a three-mile drive to the interstate. There'd be traffic there. Not much this time of night, but enough to put some cars between the Mustang and Elijah's team. Unless they wanted a fight with the local police and the state PD, they'd back off and let Cyrus leave.

Trees brushed the sides of the car, but he didn't have time to be careful. His headlights splashed across the rutted winding road, reflecting off trees and a guard rail that separated the road and a small creek that ran to the west of the compound. He'd been there a couple of days ago, fishing with a few of the men who provided food for Amos Way. They hadn't been part of the security team. They were members of the community who had given up everything to live secluded from worldly influences. Good, God-fearing men who didn't seem to have a clue that their compound was being used as a front for something else. Strange, because it had taken Cyrus all of three days to realize that Essex's missing friend wasn't the only thing being hidden in Amos Way.

Of course, he was more cynical than most people, more suspicious than most. It came with his past, with his military career, with his job.

He'd still felt guilty for playing the men for fools, because that's what they'd think he'd done. They'd been accepting, kind, showed him the ropes of fishing and asked him about his life. He'd lied about his past, given the background HEART had created for him. He'd listened while one of the men had shared the gospel, obviously concerned for Cyrus's eternal salvation. Then, he'd turned the conversation around and picked their brains, tried to get a feel for what was going on under the surface of the compound.

A conversational thief. That's what his colleague Stella liked to call him. A master at moving a conversation in the direction he wanted it to go without anyone realizing he was doing it. It was a good tool to have in his line of work, and he wasn't going to give up doing it. He just wished he hadn't been using it on a couple of guys who'd have probably been his friends in other circumstances.

In
these
circumstances, they'd probably stand by and watch while Elijah's security team shot him.

Community over self.

He had to keep that in mind. The people of Amos Way seemed innocent and oblivious, but they were indoctrinated to believe that Elijah's word was nearly the same as God's.

Not cool. Not in any situation. In this one, it could prove to be deadly. If he and Lark were caught, there'd be no second chance at escape.

Behind them, lights splashed on the dirt.