Hidden Agenda (12 page)

“He's right. Just in case.” Felipe got up from the table. “But I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. Probably just one of the families coming up here for the holidays, or some animal. We get a few black bears looking for food every now and then.”

Michael glanced at the dog. There was no doubt that Gizmo was bothered about something, but Felipe was probably right. It was probably nothing more than an animal.

Michael caught the fear in Olivia's gaze. “We've been here two days with no sign of anyone. If they knew where we were, they'd have shown up a long time ago—”

“Someone
is
out there,” Ivan said.

The front window shattered.

Michael pulled Olivia and Ivan behind the couch for cover, wincing at the sudden movements.

Michael moved in front of Ivan so Ivan could read his lips. “What did you see?”

“Four men getting out of a car. They've got rifles.”

“Felipe, do you have any weapons?”

“A rifle over the door and a handgun here . . .” Felipe pulled a weapon from the drawer behind him where he crouched.

Another bullet hit the back wall. They needed to get out of here, before they were completely trapped.

“Stay down,” Michael ordered.

Careful to avoid the windows, he headed toward the front door, then grabbed the rifle from the top of the doorframe.

“Can you see them?” Olivia asked.

He looked out through a crack in the curtain. “Two of them are still out front. The other two must have headed around to the back.”

Another shot hit a lamp, exploding glass behind them.

Michael weighed their options. The only way they might make it out of here alive was to fight their way out the back.

“We'll try to get out the back door,” he said. “Felipe, that means we'll have to disarm the two guys back there.”

Felipe nodded.

Michael grabbed the keys from the counter and tossed them to Olivia. “You and Ivan stay behind us. As soon as we're out, head for the car.”

They started toward the back door, staying low. Another round of shots smashed through the front windows.

“Michael, wait . . .” Olivia shouted from behind him. “Felipe's been shot.”

Michael turned around as Felipe fell to the floor. Blood from a small wound streamed down the side of his head. Olivia searched frantically to find a pulse.

A moment later, she grasped Michael's arm.

“I can't find a pulse.” Her voice rose. “He's dead, Michael . . . they killed him.”

Michael hesitated. The men had thrown fiery rags through the broken window and smoke was already filling the room as the flames licked at the curtains running up the wall. The goons were pounding against the front door. In another few seconds they'd break it down.

If they didn't get out now . . .

“The cabin's on fire, Olivia.” Michael struggled to breathe through the smoke as he pulled Felipe's body toward the back door.

The front door splintered. Another few seconds . . .

“We've got to get out of here,” Michael said, letting go of Felipe's lifeless body.

She grabbed onto his arm. “We can't leave him—”

“We don't have a choice. We can't carry his body with us, and if we don't leave now, they'll kill all of us.”

O
livia watched Michael take out two of the intruders in quick succession as she stumbled out of the cabin and down the back stairs beside Ivan and Gizmo. Her mind fought to process the scene. Two men down meant there were still two more.

She ran toward the car. Smoke from the fire filled her lungs and burned her eyes. All they had to do was get to the car, start the engine, and drive away. It wouldn't matter then where they went or who was after them. They just needed to get as far away as possible.

I
'm sorry, Felipe. So, so sorry.

How had her actions to save one man managed to kill someone she loved?

Another shot ripped her from her thoughts, propelling her forward. They needed to get to the car, but the shadowy light from the fire revealed a terrifying reality. Someone had shot out all the tires.

They couldn't go back to the cabin. Couldn't take the car. The only option left was to run. Olivia's mind scrambled to orient herself as Michael motioned her and Ivan toward the treeline behind the cabin. She knew the general layout of the area. Maybe the darkness was a blessing, but she had never tried
to navigate the landscape in the dark. And never while being chased by men with guns.

The surrounding woods were thick; the trails that twisted through the brush were for visitors to explore in daylight. At night, it was much slower going. A twig snapped beneath her foot. She stumbled again. This time, Michael caught her and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“We've got to keep moving,” he said.

Olivia pressed her lips together, fighting back the bubble of terror swelling up inside. She had to keep her mind focused on the trail instead of letting the fear overcome her. But the two remaining men were still behind them. She could hear their footsteps crunching through the dry winter leaves. She shivered, wishing for her jacket. It was cold enough she could see her breath fogging in the moonlight.

Olivia pressed on between Michael and Ivan, trying not to think about Felipe lying on the middle of the floor. They shouldn't have left him. But Michael had been right. If they'd stayed, they'd all be dead.

By the time Michael stopped at an outcropping of rocks, Olivia was completely out of breath.

“Do you hear them anymore?” he asked.

Olivia shook her head, urging Gizmo to be quiet as he whined beside her. “Maybe they thought we headed the other direction.”

Fear slithered through her, taking a stronger grasp. Why hadn't they been more prepared? Why had they assumed they couldn't be found? Assumed they were safe? They couldn't have been more wrong.

She turned to Michael and whispered. “How did they know where we were?”

“I don't know. For now, though, we need to evaluate what we have. Did you grab anything before leaving?”

“No.”

“What about the layout of this area? What's ahead?”

“It continues for a few miles of hiking trails with dense foliage like it is here. There are dozens of houses starting a mile or so to our east away from town, but the road eventually dead ends.”

“More than likely, they'll keep looking for us. Which means we need to put as much distance as possible between us and them. How far to the main road?”

Olivia tried to orient herself, then turned to Ivan and signed the question.

“Three . . . maybe four miles to the west,” he said.

“Can you get us there?” Michael asked.

The hazy moonlight was enough to communicate with Ivan. He nodded, determination stamping out the fear in his eyes.

Ivan veered left, and Michael stumbled after him. Olivia could tell he was in pain and in no shape to be facing the cold along with the tough terrain.

God . . . I don't know how it
came to this. I thought I wanted to know the
truth, but sometimes the truth doesn't bring freedom. Sometimes
it brings death and fear, and more questions.

She shifted her focus back to Michael.
“
Are you going to be able to make it?”

“Not sure we have a choice, so yes.”

She glanced back in the direction of the cabin. She estimated they'd only gone a couple of miles. Which left a lot of terrain for their pursuers to search, but was it enough?

Ivan skidded down an embankment in front of her. She followed him, wincing when the sharp edges of rocks bit into the back of her legs and scratched her ankles. She stopped abruptly at the base of the embankment, as Michael made his way down behind them in an avalanche of small rocks.

He paused for a moment, fighting to catch his breath.

“Michael?”

“I'm fine. We need to keep moving.”

She stared ahead, shivering, at a row of dim lights in the distance. A light snow had begun to fall. He wasn't fine. None of them were fine. They had to find shelter for the night.

“We need to stop.” Olivia grasped Michael's arm. “We've all pushed it hard enough already. Most of these cabins are empty, and we're far enough away by now that the chances of them finding us are slim.”

“I'm fine,” Michael repeated.

“You're not fine. We're running through the woods in the middle of the night, in freezing weather.” Olivia heard the shrillness in her voice, but she didn't care. “You've been in bed the past two days, and I'm tired, frozen, and scared half out of my mind. We're far enough away at this point, and I don't think they know what direction we went.”

Ivan bent down to scratch Gizmo's neck and nodded. “She's right, Michael.”

“Okay, I'll admit you're both right. I'm exhausted.” Michael leaned against a tree trunk, his face pale. “Which is why I want you to make your way to the main road where you can get a signal and call for help. I'll wait here. You can come back for me later.”

Olivia frowned. He had to be kidding. “We're not leaving you here alone. And besides, once we're there, who do we call?”

“I'll give you a number to call. Someone you can trust—”

“We need to stick together,” she said.

Michael didn't look convinced. “I understand your concerns, but—”

“But nothing. I'm right and you know it,” she said.

What they needed now was shelter and a place to get a few hours of sleep. Then maybe they'd all be clearer-headed in the morning.

“There are a bunch of houses over there.” She started walking again, her mind made up. In his condition, he'd freeze to death by the time she and Ivan made it to the road. “You can see some
of the lights from here. Besides, they'll probably assume that we headed for the main road, so it's better to go away from it.”

She forged ahead, allowing her fear to turn into full-blown anger. Anger toward her father and mother and Felipe and the secrets they'd kept. Anger toward Tomas, the men who'd attacked the cabin tonight and shot Felipe . . . and at the moment, even Michael.

He trudged down the trail beside her, his hand pressed against his side and limping. Maybe none of this had been his fault, but the man clearly had a knack for getting into trouble. And on top of that, he was stubborn, pushy, and worst of all, made her heart race when he looked at her with those bright blue eyes of his.

She stepped over a branch in the middle of the path and tried to shove that last thought back into the corner of her heart where it had come from. Michael Hunt might be take-charge, good looking in that rough-around-the-edges-very-manly sort of way, but what did that matter to her?

Ten minutes later, they approached the front door of a cabin. It was set back off the road, dark, and most importantly, appeared empty. She ran her hand over the top of the doorframe. Nothing. She picked up the welcome mat and searched underneath. Nothing.

Olivia took a step back, fighting tears. What had she been thinking? She couldn't exactly ask Michael to use his police skills and break down the door.

Ivan nudged her shoulder, held up a key, then proceeded to open the door.

“Where'd you find that?” she asked.

He smiled. “Fake rock.”

She stepped inside the house beside Michael, thankful for the moonlight filtering through the windows.

“We should keep the lights off in case we were followed,”
he said. “We'll stay just long enough to get some rest, then before daylight we'll get to the road and try to get a ride out of here.”

Olivia found a couple of flashlights on the kitchen counter. She handed one to Michael and Ivan and then started rummaging through the cabinets for some first-aid supplies and pain reliever, while Ivan went into the restroom. Her conscience stirred, but breaking and entering seemed like the least of their worries at this point. If nothing else, they could leave a note promising to reimburse the owner for whatever they took.

She finally found what she was looking for in the pantry. She entered the living room just as Michael pulled a box of bullets from the top shelf of the front closet and laid them next to a gun.

“In case we need reinforcements,” he said, handing her a coat.

Olivia shivered as she pulled on the hooded jacket. “I own a gun, but I still hate them. My father's the one who insisted I have one for protection. I never imagined having to actually use it.”

“We don't have a choice, Olivia. If they come after us, we have to be able to defend ourselves.”

“I know.”

“Hey.” He moved in front of her, until she had to look up at him in the light of the flashlight at his now familiar features. Those intense blue eyes, crooked smile, and the start of a beard covering up some of the fading bruises. “It's going to be okay. I've come out of worse situations than this.”

Her anger started to melt. She wanted to believe everything was going to be okay, but all the possible-ending scenarios wouldn't stop gnawing at her. “When's the last time you had both the cartel and the authorities after you?”

He laughed. “I agree that it isn't an everyday occurrence, but we'll find a way out.”

She nodded, fighting back the tears. She'd spent her days tracking down stories, but being tracked down . . . being hunted . . . that was different.

“I'm scared, Michael.”

“I know.” He ran his hands down her arms that were shaking more from fear than from the cold. “I'd say you're a lot braver than you think.”

“Brave?” She let out a low chuckle. “I see myself as a lot of things, but brave . . . I don't think so.”

“The way I look at it, you—along with your brother—managed to escape with an undercover officer who would be dead by now without your intervention. And you've survived a hostage situation, a burning cabin, and being shot at, all while keeping your wits.”

Felipe hadn't survived.

She moved away from him and started rummaging through the first-aid kit, his presence almost as unsettling as the situation they'd walked into. “Do you think they'll find us?”

“I plan to do everything I can to ensure they don't.”

She found a bottle of Tylenol and handed it to him. “We need to change your bandages. When do you want to do that?”

Michael sat on the couch and eased off his shirt. “Now is as good a time as any.”

Olivia worked by the light of the flashlight, ensuring her gaze stayed away from his well-formed chest, focusing instead on removing the old bandage from his wound.

He jerked away as part of the tape stuck. “Ouch.”

She shot him a frown. “You've gotta be a whole lot tougher than that, cowboy. I've just begun.”

“That's what I'm afraid of.”

She continued working in silence, pleased to see no signs of infection, then moved to his side, where she spread a thin layer of antibiotic over the washed cuts.

“I'm sorry about Felipe.” Michael broke the silence that had settled between them. “I know he meant a lot to you.”

Olivia tried to swallow the lump forming in her throat. “I'm sorry too. It seems like everyone I trusted is either dying or turning out to be someone I never really knew.”

Her mother. Felipe. Her father. She felt as if her heart were being ripped out. But there would be time to grieve later. For now, she needed to focus on getting her and Ivan—and Michael—to safety.

“Why do you do what you do?”

“Undercover work?”

She nodded as she squeezed out a bit more cream. “I would be terrified. Always afraid I'd get caught . . . or worse for that matter. Always on the run. Always looking over my shoulder, afraid the wrong person might find me out.”

“I try to remember why I'm doing what I'm doing. And I try not to lose my identity.”

Michael's words echoed through the empty places in her soul. Maybe she hadn't lost her identity, but learning the truth about her father had changed to some degree who she was.

“I'm done for now.” She began repacking the first-aid kit while the questions continued to form in her mind. “Have you ever lost your sense of identity?”