Love Inspired Suspense June 2015 - Box Set 2 of 2: Exit Strategy\Payback\Covert Justice (15 page)

“Do you see anything?” Lark leaned toward the window, her forehead so close it nearly touched the glass. He imagined someone standing below, a high-powered rifle trained in their direction, and he moved between her and the glass.

“Move away from the window,” he said calmly, his heart tripping at the thought of her lying in a pool of her own blood.

She didn't balk, didn't question. Just returned to her seat, sat there tensely. The silence of the room seemed to have a pulse of its own, its loudness filling Cyrus's head. He wasn't surprised that Maria wasn't asking questions, but Eric's muteness was out of character.

Did he know something?

Had he or someone let Elijah know that they'd arrived?

He didn't have time to ask. A shadow moved at the edge of the lot, ducked under some trees that stood there. Not enough foliage to offer cover, but it put something between him and the parking lot.

Seconds later, another figure stepped into view.

Chance for sure. Cyrus recognized the quick stride and confident carriage. He pulled out his cell phone, dialed Chance's number, waiting impatiently for his boss to pick up.

One ring. Two. Three. Four.

Finally, Chance answered.

“Go ahead,” he said by way of greeting.

“Someone walked into the trees to your left.”

“I saw him.”

“You're going in after him or coming back up?”

“Checking on the car and coming up. They divide us, and it's going to be easier to conquer us. Logan is on the way. ETA five minutes. We leave as soon as he gets here. Make sure Lark knows it, and make sure she's not going to give us any grief about it. I don't like the way things feel, and the sooner we find a place to hole up, the happier I'm going to be.” Chance disconnected.

“Is everything okay?” Lark asked quietly.

“We're going to be leaving in about five minutes.” He touched her shoulder, eyed Eric. The man's burns weren't faked, but his quiet demeanor, his silence, that wasn't indicative of his character. Even wounded, even in pain.

“Did you contact someone after we got here, Eric?” he asked, and the man turned his head, refused to look at Cyrus.

“Did you?”
Cyrus pressed.

“I would never betray my family the way you betrayed your friendships,” Eric responded.

“That's not an answer.”

“It is an answer. Just not the one you want,” Eric responded. “If you want a different one, I will give you this. You look at my hands and tell me how I could have contacted anyone without being seen. Then ask the question again.”

There were ways, but Cyrus couldn't pull back the covers, search for a hidden cell phone.

“Eric,” Lark said, lifting his bandaged hand. “What do you know about Joshua's death?”

The question surprised Cyrus. It must have shocked Eric. He sat up, the sheet falling away. Bandages wrapped around his chest, covering him from armpit to waist, but he looked to be more filled with anger than with pain.

“What kind of question is that?” he demanded, yanking his hand from Lark's.

“One that I want an answer to. You knew your son better than almost anyone. You know how careful he was with his guns.”

“Even careful people make mistakes,” Eric said, his face pale beneath the burns.

“Not Joshua. Not about this,” Lark insisted. “Did you know there was a note on the table near his body?”

Eric pressed his lips together, but didn't answer.

“You did know,” she breathed. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“He didn't want you to be hurt,” Maria answered, her words shaky. “He didn't want you to suffer the way we were suffering. Our son. Taking his own life.” Her voice broke, and she buried her face in her hands.

“Enough!” Eric barked. “We will not discuss this further. You have to go, so leave,” he said. “But go with my blessing, and know that I care about you. Even if you have betrayed the trust of our family.”

“I have never betrayed you.”

“You took something that didn't belong to you. You have kept it from the person who owns it. That makes you a thief, Lark. You are our daughter. Your sin is our sin.”

“Eric—”

“Will you deny it?”

“Yes.”

“Then you are a liar, too. Your sin seeped into our peaceful lives. Your lies became ours, and my son became a victim of them.”

“What are you talking about?” Lark looked stricken, her eyes deep gray in her pale face.

“Say your goodbyes to Mother and to me, and then go. I wish you well.” He held out his hand, and she took it, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

“Goodbye, Eric,” she murmured, and he nodded, turning his face away.

Maria stood and hugged Lark, whispering something in her ear. There was something in her face, something in her gaze that made Cyrus's pulse pick up a notch.

“Go in peace,” she finally said, stepping back, squeezing both Lark's hands and releasing them.

That was it.

Simple. To the point.

She sat, lowering her head as if she were praying, dismissing Lark the same way Eric had.

It had to hurt, but Lark kept her chin up, her emotions in check as Cyrus took her arm and led her into the hall.

FIFTEEN

T
he note in Lark's hand felt as big as an ocean liner but it was only a small square of folded paper. She wanted to open it, see what her mother-in-law had passed to her, but Maria's whispered words echoed in her head.

We are in danger. You must be very careful. Elijah is watching your every move. Don't tell anyone about this. Do not let the traitor see what I am giving you. If you do, we will die.

The words had surprised her, but Maria's terror had been real, her hands shaking as she'd squeezed Lark's, pressed the scrap of paper into her palm.

“Cyrus!” someone called, and she looked up the hall, her pulse racing, that little piece of paper heavy as a two-ton weight. She shoved it in her pocket as a blond-haired man strode toward them.

“Took you long enough,” Cyrus muttered, offering a hand to the man. “Logan Fitzgerald, this is Lark Porter. Lark, Logan is a member of HEART. He's also a former marine. I try not to hold that against him.”

She tried to smile, but her lips were stiff, her muscles uncooperative.

“It's nice to meet you, Logan,” she managed to say, and the blond smiled, his dark blue eyes sharp and assessing.

“I hear you've been through some tough times.”

“Yes,” she said, the word catching on the back of her throat, that little scrap of paper taunting her.

Don't tell anyone about this.

A month ago, she wouldn't have. A week ago, she might not have. Three months ago, she'd been foolish enough to think she could bring Elijah down on her own, that somehow, by the sheer strength of her determination, she'd be able to outsmart a man who had manipulated and tricked an entire community.

She'd been wrong then.

Would she be wrong now?

If she kept the note secret? If she found somewhere to read it without anyone seeing? Would that be a mistake?

“We're going to change that,” Logan continued. “Pretty soon, you'll be safe and back to your old life.”

Her old life?

It's what she'd thought she'd wanted, what she'd been longing for during the endless months that she'd been held in Amos Way. When she'd been a prisoner in the trailer, she'd wanted nothing more than to go back to Baltimore, live in her empty apartment, continue her life without the deep connections that she'd once had with Joshua.

It was too hard to love someone and lose them.

Too difficult to care so deeply and have to say goodbye.

But right then, she thought the hardest thing of all, the most difficult thing, would be to never have experienced the kind of love she and Joshua had shared.

Taking a chance on something like that? She thought it might be worth any heartache it would bring, that it might be worth any sorrow.

She met Cyrus's eyes, could see the questions there.

He knew. Not that she'd been given the note, but that she was hiding something.

He didn't say anything, just cupped her elbow, moved her through the hall. Chance met them at the elevator, and they rode down in silence, that piece of paper between Lark and the men who were trying to save her.

It was that more than anything else that made her decide.

Cyrus had risked everything for her. Chance had put his life on hold to play bodyguard. Both men had proven to be invaluable allies. Logan had dropped whatever he'd been doing, left DC, made the trip to help his comrades. Because they'd asked, and because she'd needed it. She'd be a fool to keep going the direction she always had, to keep pushing to do things her way, to solve her problems alone.

“She gave me something,” she said, her voice so loud, it nearly startled her.

Cyrus smiled, the warmth in his eyes, in his face, making her heart reach for his, her body lean toward his.

“I was wondering when you were going to tell us,” he said, his fingers caressing her arm, their warmth easing some of the chill that had settled in her bones.

“She said that Elijah is watching. That she and Eric will be killed if he knows you've seen the note.”

“A note, huh?” Chance led the way off the elevator. “You read it yet?”

“No.”

“We'll look at it in the car. I called Sheriff Johnson. He wants us to come to the station. He can put us up there for a few nights.”

“Hopefully not in a jail cell,” Logan muttered. “I spent a few too many days in one while I was in Mexico.”

“I told you not to mess with the local PD,” Chance said, pausing at the door. “You want to get your car, Logan? I think that's a better option than mine.”

“The Bible—” she began.

“Right here.” He patted his coat. “I grabbed it after I searched the car for explosives.”

“Find anything?” Cyrus asked.

Lark was too busy thinking about the possibility of a car bomb going off to ask questions.

“Another tracking device planted under the license plate. I don't think they wanted to risk killing Lark. Not before they got what they wanted from her.”

“Sounds like you've got some serious trouble here,” Logan said. “I like it.”

He jogged outside, and Cyrus shook his head. “That guy has some serious adrenaline junkie issues.”

“He's a good team player,” Chance responded, taking Lark's other arm as a dark Jeep pulled up in front of the entrance. “Ready? Let's move!”

Seconds later, she was buckled in, sandwiched between Cyrus and Chance as Logan sped from the parking lot and headed toward the sheriff's department.

“Might as well take out that note now,” Chance said as they headed up Main Street.

She reached into her pocket, her hand shaking as she pulled out the folded paper. She tried to unfold it, but she couldn't find the edges, couldn't quite get it to open.

Probably because of her shaky hands, her trembling body.

She wanted to read the note, and she didn't.

Because whatever it said, it was a message from Elijah. She was sure of that, certain that her in-laws had been ordered to give it to her.

“Let me.” Chance took it from her hand, unfolded it easily.

He took a small Maglite from his coat pocket, handed it and the note to Lark. “Go ahead.”

She turned on the light, aimed the beam at a two-by-two scrap of writing paper.

The words were written in bold black ink, the letters tiny and precise.

You have what I want. Bring it to me, or the Porters die. Men first. Women second. Children third. Not in one day, but over time, so that each suffers more than the next. Their blood on your hands.

There was an address beneath the words. No signature, but she knew who'd written it. Elijah.

“What's it say?” Logan asked as he pulled into the police department.

She wanted to answer, but the words caught in her throat, fear holding them captive. There was no doubt in her mind that Elijah would follow through on his threat.

Cyrus read the note instead, his voice ringing out into the quiet Jeep, the words echoing in Lark's head, filling her with terror as Logan parked the car and they headed in to meet with the sheriff.

* * *

“No,” Cyrus said for the thousandth time. He could probably say it a thousand times more and get the same response. Silence.

“You can ignore me all you want,” he continued. “But that won't change anything. I don't like the plan. We need to come up with a different one.”

“I suppose you have a suggestion?” Sheriff Johnson asked, a topographical map spread out on the desk in front of him.

Cyrus didn't. That was the problem.

The plan they'd come up with made sense—send a team to the specified location, have them move in silently, surround the abandoned ski resort before Lark drove in. Once she arrived, they'd wait for Elijah to make a move, and then they'd tighten the net and bring him in.

There was only one problem with that. Cyrus didn't want Lark anywhere near Elijah. He didn't care how many men and women were in position beforehand. He didn't care how many or how well trained they were. All he cared about was keeping her safe.

“My suggestion is that we come up with a new plan.”

“
My
suggestion is,” Lark said, pushing away from the desk and the map and getting to her feet, “that we go for it.”

“Go for what?” he demanded. “Your death?”

“Elijah isn't going to kill me until he gets what he wants,” she replied.

“That does not,” he growled, “make me feel better.”

“This isn't about you,” Logan cut in. “It's about Lark. It's about her husband's death. It's about something else, something that is probably a lot bigger than any of that. A rocket launcher? Dude, that's serious weaponry. You said that shipments were coming in and out of the compound every week. That's potentially thousands of those things. They weren't in the sheds when they were burned down, so where are they?”

“We aren't completely sure they were ever there,” Sheriff Johnson said. “We haven't found any evidence on the compound yet.”

“Come on!” Logan scoffed. “Everything that's happened is pointing to some kind of trafficking ring. Weapons make sense in light of the rocket launcher that was used. For all you know, this guy is a lunatic and trying to usher in the apocalypse. He's got to be stopped.”

There was a heartbeat of silence after he finished, and then the room exploded with noise. Sheriff Johnson reiterating how important it was to stop his half brother, but how careful they needed to be to not jump to conclusions. Chance asking how many men and women Johnson could round up for the mission. Logan on his cell phone, asking for more HEART presence.

All of it swirling around Cyrus, but he was only partially aware of it.

He knew...

Of course he knew.

That Logan was right.

Elijah had to be stopped at any cost. He just didn't want that cost to be Lark.

He met her eyes, and she smiled.

“God is in control, right?” she said quietly, but he heard the words more loudly than any of the others, felt them more deeply.

“Right,” he said.

“So, you've got nothing to worry about.”

“I'm still going to worry.”

“But, you're going to support me in this, right?” she asked, her gaze somber, her face pale. “Because I have to do it. There's no choice. No other option. If the police go to the ski lodge and find Elijah there, he'll deny the note, he'll insist that he had nothing to do with it.”

“I know.” He did, and he knew that Elijah would have made sure there was no evidence to the contrary, no way to trace the note to him.

“Then say you're going to back me, Cyrus.” Her voice broke, and she took his hand, her palm cool and dry against his. “Because, I can't do it without you.”

That was all it took.

Just those words, and he couldn't deny her.

He didn't like the plan, didn't want the plan, but for Lark, he'd follow through on it.

“All right,” he said. “I'll back you.”

She smiled at that, turning back to the desk, to the map, but not letting go of his hand.

Chance noticed, his gaze dropping for a fraction of a second, settling on that place where Cyrus's and Lark's hands were linked.

He met Cyrus's eyes, nodded and then leaned over the desk, pointed to a flagged area.

“This,” he said, “is where HEART will go in.”

That was it. The beginning of the plan that Cyrus had committed to. No backing out now. No changing course. All he could do was follow through and pray that when it was over, Lark would still be standing.