Anna had been through hell before and survived. That’s all she needed to do—survive—and he’d take care of the rest.
Ed shivered in the corner of the helicopter, clinging to the firm belief that fate was on his side. He hadn’t slept since he’d gotten that phone call to say his wife had been taken. When he’d failed to get in touch with Anna, he’d been ready to walk into RCMP headquarters and beg for help. But she’d finally gotten her head out of her ass long enough to check her e-mail, and by pretending her mother was near death, he’d gotten her on the island before the appointed time. He’d kept his side of the bargain. These bastards better keep theirs.
Anna’s eyes had drifted shut a few minutes ago. How could she sleep? Didn’t she care about the woman who’d given her life? Ungrateful wretch. Saying Malcolm raped her? Maybe he shouldn’t have forced his son to take Anna to the prom, but the boy would never have taken anything that wasn’t freely offered. Girls had fallen over themselves to go out with the former high school football star.
But a guy’s reputation didn’t suffer if he slept around, whereas a girl’s did. Maybe Anna had convinced herself she’d said no just
to save face. Ed didn’t think it was necessarily fair, but that was life. And life was not fair.
Katherine
. Just the thought of his delicate wife in the hands of these monsters made fury pound through his veins. If they’d so much as
touched
her…He clenched his teeth around the thought. Harvey Montgomery better keep his hands off her too.
This was all Davis’s fault; maybe it was his way of getting revenge. Setting the guy up had been child’s play, but maybe he should have just had him killed instead. It would have been easier in the long run.
When Eleanor had been sick, he’d set up bank accounts in the Caymans, planning to rescue what remained of their savings before it was all wasted on medical bills. Then he’d sell the house, and build himself a new life in paradise. Eleanor wouldn’t have cared. She’d barely recognized him, she was so pumped full of drugs. Malcolm could have joined him after he finished high school, and Eleanor would have been taken care of in the hospital.
Then one day, when he’d been at his lowest, Katherine had comforted him to her breast and he’d known everything would turn out OK.
So he hadn’t followed through with his plans to leave, and Eleanor had died quickly. A blessing, everyone said, and he certainly hadn’t argued. And he’d been gifted the tools and knowledge of how to get the life he was destined to have with Katherine. Fate. With a little cunning thrown in.
Sure, he’d waited a year to put his plan into action, using the time to sink Davis further and further into the mire, but it had been worth it.
Ed eyed the guard. A man who wanted to rip away the life Ed had worked so diligently to build. He was obviously just a grunt, not the brains of the operation. Ed needed to deal with whoever was calling the shots and convince them he could help, just as long as his wife was safe.
The pilot kept his eyes averted, and Ed had noticed when getting onboard that the identifying numbers on the helicopter were all covered with masking tape. They flew low, avoiding radar.
Damn
. Up ahead there was a flash of the coast, and a small clearing just visible to the left, among the endless stretch of pines. The chopper banked toward it and the pilot set the machine down as gently as a sleeping baby in a crib. The bald guy got out of the helicopter and pulled Anna down beside him. She stumbled to her knees and he dragged her back to her feet.
Ed rapidly unclipped his belt and scooted after them. “We had a deal. Where’s Katherine?” he shouted over the noise of the rotors. The pilot didn’t wait for them to be clear, he took off and the three of them ducked away from the dangerous tail blade.
“Where’s my wife?” Ed yelled.
The bald guy raised his gun at him.
Oh shit.
Ed threw himself to the ground. Anna shoved the guard and the shot went wide. Then she took off. What the hell did she think she was doing?
“I just need to talk to your boss,” Ed shouted after the man who gave chase to Anna as she ran through a slim path among the fireweed.
Ed jogged after them both. Part of him wanted to run and hide, but he wasn’t a coward. He’d proved that all those years ago when he’d stood by his dying wife. He’d proved it by fulfilling his side of the bargain with these people.
Up ahead, a man stepped out of the woods and Anna stopped dead. The bald guy grabbed hold of her arm.
“I’ve been looking for you, Anna Silver,” the new man said.
The hairs on the back of Ed’s neck stood up. This was the guy he needed to talk to.
“Where’s my mom?” Anna demanded with enough attitude to make Ed scowl. Did she want her mother dead?
“Feisty,” the new guy said with relish. “I like that in a woman.”
“Let her and Ed go and I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” said Anna.
A bolt of shock ran through Ed that she’d try and save him after he’d sacrificed her this way.
“I kept my part of the bargain,” Ed raised his voice. “You promised me my wife in exchange.”
The new guy seemed amused, and his lips twitched.
“I can help, you know. Whatever it is you do. I’m an accountant. Please, I’ll do anything to help you, just let my wife go.” Ed knew he was begging, but he couldn’t help it.
The scary newcomer looked amused. “We already have an accountant.” He raised his gun and pointed it at Ed’s face.
Anna screamed, “No,” and it echoed around the clearing before the bald guy put a gloved hand over her face and smothered the sound.
The man was bluffing, but Ed felt his bowels turn to water. “You promised…”
“I lied.” And he squeezed the trigger.
Cops crawled over every square inch of the Coast Guard station and right over Brent’s skin. They were staging here, and trying to do it as quietly as possible, but in a town as small Bamfield, even one stranger was conspicuous. Thankfully, the officers had arrived in plainclothes, lugging heavy equipment bags. Now there were twenty hulking, black-clad individuals huddled around a map, which made it look like a terrorist attack was imminent. Holly was arguing with the head of the Emergency Response Team about their next move. Whatever was going down, the guy obviously didn’t give a shit that her father was his boss.
Coast Guard Captain Cyrus Kaine eyed Brent across the upstairs lounge. His expression was a thin veil of contempt, and the feeling was entirely mutual. Kaine was an ex-cop from the big city and thought he knew everything about everything. The world was black and white. No gray allowed. They’d hated each other on sight.
There were so many badges in this room, Brent was starting to feel nauseous from that alone. Grinding his teeth to stubs wasn’t helping much either. He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and
watched them programming GPS units. Then they pulled out the plans of his house—the house he’d helped build, but did the cops ask for any input from him? No. They fucking didn’t. Which was a shame, because those plans only told half the story.
It was almost full dark outside. The cops had night vision goggles, but he could walk this island blindfolded and still find his way home. But he’d discovered he couldn’t say dick without someone telling him to shut the fuck up. They didn’t trust the ex-con. Again—with the exception of Holly and her father—the feeling was mutual.
No doubt these guys were hungry to take down the bad guys. To punish cop killers with as much force as necessary. Which didn’t save Anna. If anything, it put Anna in the line of fire between two sets of people who didn’t give a shit about her except as collateral damage. This wasn’t good. None of this was good. His insides twisted with fear and agitation. Holly checked him every thirty seconds to make sure he hadn’t done anything stupid, and that pissed him off. He hated when people had him figured out.
“What the hell is taking them so long?” he growled under his breath. Finn glanced at him and then stood to go see what the plan was. Brent watched Finn open his mouth to say something, but the commander of the team shut him down. Six years in Special Forces looked about as popular as being an ex-con.
Figured
.
Anna’s life was at stake here. It wasn’t just some operation to catch bad guys. The bad guys could walk, as far as he was concerned—for now. Anna was all that mattered. He’d finally figured out that, for all he’d been out of prison these last four years, he still hadn’t been free of shackles until he’d made that decision to help a virtual stranger.
Brent stood up and stretched out his back, and wished he hadn’t given up smoking six months ago.
The head of ERT was going at it with Holly in a way that was making his brother bristle, even though he knew better than to interfere with his fiancée’s job. He caught Cyrus Kaine’s dark gaze.
For once the guy didn’t look like he wanted to punch him. He looked like he knew exactly what Brent was thinking. Brent froze, and then breathed out again as the guy deliberately turned away and added his voice to the growing argument the cops were having.
Brent poured a coffee from the urn by the door. Added sugar, stirred, and sauntered down the stairs and out the door. Once there he ditched the coffee and jogged up the lane toward the lodge. Then he slipped into the trees that rimmed the northern edge of the peninsula and paused.
The irony didn’t escape him that he could now end up back inside for disobeying police orders, but he didn’t care. He’d messed up, broken his promise to keep Anna safe. He would rather rot in a cell for the rest of his life than let her down. A noise behind him made him spin.
“Go back,” Brent told his brother.
“You’re not doing this alone.”
Brent shook his head. “Holly will kill you.”
“Holly knows me better than anyone.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Brent muttered angrily. Finn might be a grown man, but he was still his little brother.
“I can look after myself, especially if you have a few weapons stashed away the way I think you do.” He gave Finn a faint nod, just perceptible in the twilight. “And I don’t want you to get hurt, either.”
A massive knot formed in his throat, but he didn’t have time to get emotional over something they both already understood implicitly. They struck out through barely visible paths, moving silently through the forest, avoiding the officers spread too thinly to cover so much ground. Avoiding the sleeping bear who’d been snacking on huckleberries in a nearby thicket, and the cougar who sat in a tree watching the twilight.
The bay where they’d grown up was secluded. Barkley Sound to the north and west, with its surging, unpredictable swells. Rugged untamed cliffs to south and east, forest obscuring every
detail. They worked their way to Laura’s property, spotting one man keeping watch on the back road from his house, but no other obvious guards. Brent had no idea how many people were involved in this, but sixty million was enough to fund a small army. Except they didn’t have sixty million. They had squat, thanks to his friend Davis.
Brent led Finn to his mini arsenal. It wouldn’t take out an army, but he hoped they could find and defend Anna until the troops arrived. Who knew where the mother and stepfather were. The SIG Sauer was in the cabin, in one of his specially built hidey-holes. Assuming the bad guys were downstairs, he could get to it without them knowing he was in the house. He had three more handguns—two liberated from unwelcome “visitors” to his property. He also had a shotgun and a hunting rifle, for dealing with the likes of that bear they just passed. Wildlife was fine outside, but Brent didn’t want to have to share his house with anything hairier than he was.
He handed Finn a Beretta and a Smith & Wesson. Pocketed a Glock for himself.
“Do
not
get caught with that,” Finn told him grimly.
Brent nodded and led him to the cache of ammunition. They packed what they could in their pockets. Finn took the rifle and started loading it. They squatted beside a giant spruce. “There’s a hatch into the attic space on the roof,” Brent said. “If we can get through it without them knowing, then we’re inside.”