Never Cry Mercy (24 page)

The truck veered off path, bouncing up and slamming down hard as it cleared a deep rut. Nearly tossed me out. I dropped to my knees. Inside the cab the other guy pulled the driver to the middle and worked his way over to the driver's seat. He held the wheel with one hand, his pistol with the other. He looked back, in search of me. He brought the pistol up and aimed it at the glass.

I didn't give him a chance to shoot. I whipped the sap around the cab and caught him on the side of the head. He slumped face-first into the steering wheel, slowly falling to the right and sending the truck in the same direction. I reached for the door handle. Pulled it open. Stepped my left leg over the side of the bed and found a foothold along the frame. I grabbed hold of the driver's shirt and yanked him out of the cab. The truck bucked as it rolled over the man. I kicked the other guy to the floor of the passenger seat, and then slid in behind the wheel.

The cabin was close. Maybe half a mile away. The windows were dimly lit. I spotted a dark shadow on the porch. How many lay in wait, ready to pounce?

It wouldn't be enough. The dumbasses who detained me kept my weapon cache in the truck up front. And I'd managed to pick up another Glock. I had plenty.

There would be no survivors.

Chapter 61

"The hell is going on out there?" Darrow said.

"What's wrong?" Vernon said.

Reese attempted to get a look at the land beyond the front porch, but the narrow door opening limited her view, as did the trouble her eyes had adjusting against the lighting inside the room.

"The truck," Darrow said. "Looked like it went off track for a second there."

"Hell, your guy coulda dropped his cigarette," Vernon said. "He was slapping his crotch to put out the cherry and lost control."

"The simple approach," Darrow said. "You know that's why I dropped you almost thirty years ago. You never considered the worst could've happened."

Vernon waved him off. "It'll just make you a miserable old son of a bitch."

Darrow turned toward him. "A living son of a bitch."

Reese strained to see anything past the men. Headlights swept across the space between them. Her heart dropped into her stomach, leaving her feeling like the contents of her stomach would soon surface. The end was close, and her questions would soon be answered. Would she get a chance to see Jack one more time? Was he OK? Was he going to help her get out? She couldn't do it alone, and neither could he. They had to work together on this one.

"Maybe we both shouldn't be standing here together," Vernon said.

"Now you're thinking," Darrow said. "Take that rifle and go thirty yards east."

Vernon hopped off the porch and lumbered away. The truck drew closer. The headlights grew into large orbs, washing over the porch. It was time. She took a deep breath, tightened every muscle in her body and did what she'd been working up to for the past hour. Years of gymnastics had left certain joints loose. Her thumb regularly popped out of place. Newbies to the station in New York were routinely fleeced by her on a bet that she could escape from their handcuffs in less than thirty seconds.

It hurt like a bastard, though.

She brought her hands together, pressed her right thumb into the bottom joint, and her right index finger across the left thumb pad. A quick counter movement was all it took. The thumb put up little resistance and slipped out of place with a faint pop. Reese bit down on her bottom lip to keep from calling out in pain.

The truck slowed to a stop. The engine rumbled. The headlights brightened as the driver flipped on the high beams. Darrow brought his arm up to shield his eyes against the barrage of light.

Jack
.

"Where is he?" Darrow called out.

No one replied.

Reese slipped her left hand through the heavy zip-tie that bound her wrists together. With a quick tug, she popped her thumb back in place. It hung useless now, but that wouldn't last long. She glanced around the room for the hundredth time. No weapons had magically appeared. She didn't need them. She might be out of practice, but she could handle herself.

Chapter 62

Crystal River, Florida, 1988

The moon cast a halo of light in the clearing. Molly lay on the ground, motionless. Two men faced each other

"Dammit," the man with the deep southern voice called out. "What the hell just happened?"

"I got her," the guy said, walking toward the other man. He had a noticeable limp on his right side,

"Not here," the other man said. He passed within ten feet of Jack, but the boy was unable to muster the ability to do anything. Standing over Molly, the man continued, "This is bad. We gotta get out of here."

Jack started to come to. He felt along the ground for the handgun.

"You all hear that," the man shouted. "We're out of here. You know the drill."

The guy with the limp rushed past. The other man stopped in front of Jack. His teeth glinted in the moonlight as his mouth broadened into a smile.

"Two for one tonight, I suppose. That old bastard Colonel father of yours had this coming. Understand?"

Jack shook his head, trying to conceal his movements as he searched the grass for the pistol.

"Most men die at the age of twenty-five, even if they go on to live to a hundred." He leaned over, placed his pistol to Jack's forehead. "At least you won't have to suffer that fate, kid."

Chapter 63

I waited behind the wheel, high beams directed at the house. The surrounding area was lit up like daytime. Darrow stood alone on the porch, straining to see inside the truck. I scanned the area for any others. Through the door opening I spotted Reese secured to a chair. She stared at the truck. I breathed a sigh of relief knowing she was still alive.

Darrow raised his rifle and aimed it toward the truck. He wasn't going to fire. Not until he was sure who was inside. I had to attack first. The thought of killing the man before he could get a word out didn't bother me.

I opened the door and let it rest against the frame. I held a pistol in each hand, and secured the .22 in my pocket. I hadn't formed a plan beyond get out of the truck, take cover behind the door, and start shooting. But then it got murky. For one, I could miss, which would result in Darrow and his men firing on my position. I could hit Reese accidentally. Darrow could take cover in the room, holding Reese hostage. Then I'd have no choice but to enter on his terms. I'd be good as dead, then.

Of course, my aim could be true and I'd kill him with one shot. And then I'd face an unseen army.

"Come on," I muttered. "Show yourselves."

No one did. Not like I expected them to anyway.

I kicked the door open and slid out, placing one foot on the ground.

"We got him," I called out.

Darrow lifted the rifle like he was going to shoot. He was a military man. Maybe an agency man. He followed and created rules. Presumably they had a code word to use for this very moment. I had to act panicked, create a reason and belief as to why his man wouldn't follow protocol.

"He took two of our guys out," I said. "I had to subdue—"

"Shut up, Jack."

Vernon appeared in my peripheral.

"Drop those pistols, get outta the truck, and take three steps back."

I stood there for a moment, debating. I didn't doubt Vernon could shoot. It didn't matter how fast I attacked, he'd get me. And at a close distance, I wouldn't get back up.

"Come on, Jack. Don't do it like this. Drop the pistols and let's head up to the porch."

I remained still, said nothing.

"It doesn't have to end this way. Darrow's not the devil you think he is. He wants to work with you. Yeah, see, Jack? There's a way out of this that doesn't involve us burying you in that grave we had dug out about a hundred yards from where we stand."

I didn't buy that for a minute. I was a dead man. Only matter of who I took with me now. I relaxed my grip on the pistols and let them slide off my fingers with my hands held outside the vehicle. They hit the ground with a thud.

"All right," Vernon said, stepping back. His limp was more noticeable tonight. "Now slide out, hands up, and step back three paces."

I did as instructed, keeping my gaze fixed on Reese inside the cabin. She strained to see what was going on. Darrow had moved off the porch, toward the truck. He stepped through the high beams and into the darkness. He reached inside the truck, grabbed the keys and killed the lights.

Everything went dark while my eyes adjusted to the moonlight.

"He secure?" Darrow asked.

"Yeah," Vernon said.

"I can trust you on this?"

"I'm a cop, for Pete's sake. If I say he's secure, he's secure."

Darrow turned, crouched in front of me so we were eye to eye. "Maybe you've truly lived all of your years past twenty-five, but I'll be damned if you'll make it one day closer to a hundred."

Lightning shot through my nerves. Those words, at that moment, in the dark. A chord deep within me rang out like a madman smashing every key on a church organ. Pain knifed through my soul, rocking me to my core, radiating through my entire body. It debilitated me.

I'd heard that voice before. I'd heard those words spoken. It happened the night Molly was murdered.

Was it possible? Had some force carried me here to this town only to face down the man who haunted my dreams? I thought it had been Reese who drew me here. It was Darrow instead.

"Follow," Darrow said.

The man turned his back on me, but it didn't matter. Even if I could reach him, I wouldn't have time to snap his neck. Vernon would be on top of me after my first step. He wouldn't fire, though. The bullet could pass right through me and take down Darrow too.

Hell, that was a reason enough to make a move now.

I'd have a chance before this was over. I had to take it at the right time. If I died, so be it. But I had to take him down with me and ensure Reese made it out alive.

Darrow stopped on the porch, turned toward me. I searched through memories, trying to match his face with the memories from that night. The men who haunted my darkest dreams. And it had been twenty-eight years since Molly's murder. How was I to compare a man in his thirties to Darrow now?

"Did I ever tell you how much I hated your father, Noble?"

I said nothing. I wouldn't give it to him. I closed my eyes, listened to him talk.

"All I wanted was to kill him."

I still said nothing. The voice matched. It was him.

"You'll be a close second, I guess." He smiled as he pulled a hunting knife from a sheath on his belt. "Or should I say a close third?"

Chapter 64

I was face to face with the devil himself. His smirk told me he knew I had realized who he was. Every damn detail about the night of Molly's death flashed through my mind at rapid speed. I relived every pained moment from the knock on the door to holding my sister's lifeless body.

My hands steeled into fists. The smoldering embers of revenge burst into flames enveloping every nerve and muscle fiber in my body. "Every ounce of pain she felt, all the fear her soul absorbed that night, I'm gonna deliver a hundred times over to you, you son of a bitch."

I dropped my right foot back, bent the other knee. A simple move, but one that would allow me to maximize the force I delivered as I plowed into him.

Pain flashed through my knee. I glanced down and saw the butt of Vernon's rifle inches from my leg. He drew it back to strike again. I lost my balance. His next swing drove the weapon into my side. I hit the ground. Scrambled to my knees, further aggravating the injury. Darrow rushed forward and delivered a kick that caught me on the side of the head. The rifle butt slammed down on my back. I writhed on the ground, out of breath, fighting the black swirl that threatened to take me into the land of the unconscious. Hell if the bottom of Darrow's boot was the last thing I wanted to see.

"This is going to be fun," Darrow said.

They each hooked a hand under my armpits and dragged me into the room. My shins banged against the stairs. I barely felt the impact.

"Jack," Reese said.

I glanced up, placed her in the center of my field of vision. Her face was twisted in a grimace.

Darrow and Vernon tossed me against the back wall. I managed to twist and hit it with my shoulder instead of my head. Fresh blood seeped from a flesh wound I'd sustained earlier. I slumped to the ground. Every inch of me ached. But I was far from done.

Vernon ran outside and returned a moment later carrying two rifles. He set one next to the doorway, turned the other toward me.

Darrow grabbed the back of Reese's chair and turned it so she faced me. Then he positioned himself behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. His fingertips turned white, he gripped her so hard. She stared at me through tear-filled eyes. They slipped past her lower eyelids and streamed down her cheeks. She feared what they'd do to me, and her.

"Do you know about Jack's past?" Darrow asked her.

Reese said nothing.

"You never told her?" he said to me.

I said nothing.

"Well let me tell you," he said. "You see, Jack's father and I went way back. I served under him. At one point, the old man said I was the greatest soldier he'd ever commanded. You can imagine how elated I was to hear that. I mean, Noble never complimented anyone. And, you see, some other son of a bitch received my medal. What I'd done, for Jack's dad nonetheless, no one, not even him, could ever report. Not even to the man at the top of the chain. That wasn't uncommon, actually. But I'd potentially saved our country." He paused, smiled. "I'm not that same man. I'd just as soon let it die if faced with the decision again."

I glanced past him, past Vernon, and let my gaze fall on the truck. Soon, I told myself. Soon I'd get my chance.

Darrow continued. "Anyway, that praise and honor quickly faded when I learned that the Army was screwing me over. All those black ops, and someone else reaped the rewards of my missions plundering governments and taking over money- and power-rich strongholds. I never saw an ounce of it. So I took it. Then your damn father had to turn on me and my men. I waited until the time was right. Until I had the necessary resources. Until that moment when I could strike and move on and no one would ever know. I had the power then. And I have more of it now."