Authors: CJ Lyons
From her new position she shot at the men on foot. The men quickly scrambled down
to take cover behind a fallen tree trunk. Now three others were trying to get past
her on their bikes, hoping to outflank her.
She moved to a better angle to take aim at the road, waiting until they hit her twine
trap. As she suspected, the first rider didn’t see it until it was too late. Startled,
he spun out on his bike and ended up with one leg pinned beneath it. She needed his
comrades to follow her into the woods, not continue up the road to the lodge, so she
purposely broke cover, letting them spot her before she returned to the shadows and
pulled Bernie’s ski mask over her face and neck.
A few shots rang out in her direction. She fired back, barely aiming, mainly just
wanting the noise as she moved farther down her escape route paralleling the road
so she could cover it in case they didn’t come after her. Then there was silence.
Puzzled, she scrambled up a nearby hemlock and hid in its branches as she observed
them through the monocular. Weasel was talking into a satellite phone, waving his
men back down to him. What the heck?
There could only be one reason why he’d be giving up so easily. She crawled around
to the other side of the tree, the side facing the lodge, and used her monocular.
She didn’t need her night vision setting to see the Subaru’s twin headlights flanked
by several motorcycles as it was escorted back to Bernie’s cabin.
She’d thought she was the diversion but it turned out Weasel and his men were just
playing with her, wasting her time.
Poppy. It had to be. And Weasel was on his way to join them. What they’d do to Goose—she
didn’t even want to begin to imagine. And Paul and Lena? God, poor Bernie. An icy
chill shivered down her spine. She told herself it was the wind sneaking beneath her
collar, but knew better.
After what happened six months ago, she knew fear. On a very intimate level. The chill
landed in her stomach and spread out across her body, leaving her frozen in place.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Goose felt awful. Not just the blisters tearing his feet apart as he bushwhacked down
the side of the mountain in boots made more for stomping heads than stomping dirt.
More than the knowledge that the people he left behind faced an uncertain fate. Or
that they thought he was betraying them, saving himself. All except Bernie.
More than even the fear that he might let them down. The feelings churning his gut,
tangling with adrenaline, leaving him breathless, had to do with Caitlyn Tierney.
The look in her eyes as she said good-bye—she didn’t expect to return.
It was Caitlyn he couldn’t bear to disappoint. A stray branch slapped him in the face
and he almost lost his balance, slid headlong into the embrace of another tree. He
pushed off and kept going. Down, always down. To the road, to civilization, to a goddamn
phone.
* * *
Bernie wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not. So much rushed together in a whirling
kaleidoscope of color and sounds. He was hot yet freezing at the same time, couldn’t
stop his teeth chattering, not even as Lena and the stranger hauled him back out of
the car.
Car? Where were they going? Nice to go places with Lena, just like he’d dreamed.
“Can we get more ice cream?” he asked. “Sprinkles on top?”
“Of course, Bernie. Just lie down and rest,” she whispered.
Then she was gone and rough hands ran over his body. “Hey, leave him alone. Can’t
you see he’s sick?”
Bernie was falling, falling … the bed caught him but oh, it didn’t feel so soft. Every
bone in his body ached. Then Lena was back, her hands soothing the pain.
“Lena?”
“I’m here, Bernie.”
“You’re so much better than ice cream.” His eyes fluttered, her image blurring like
an old movie exposed too long. Then everything went dark.
* * *
Caitlyn barely made it back to the cover of the trees near Bernie’s cabin before Weasel
and his men came roaring up the road, coming to a stop alongside her Subaru and the
other Reapers gathered in front of the cabin. Most of the idiots sounded like they
were drunk—a few were even drinking now, as if this was their idea of a party.
Using her monocular, she could see through the windows of the cabin. Bernie lying
on his bed and Paul and Lena sitting on kitchen chairs beside him, their backs to
the wall. A Reaper held a gun on them but she saw no signs of restraint—and no signs
that they’d been hurt. But Goose, where was Goose? Had they killed him?
No. She hadn’t heard any gunfire from this direction. So not dead—gone for help? It
was just a hope, a vague long shot of a hope, but she held on to it.
Poppy emerged from the cabin to greet Weasel. She inched closer, straining to hear
their conversation over the sounds of the other bikers. It had been a long time since
she’d hunted in the woods, even longer since she’d hunted in these woods, but her
body remembered how to move silently in the dark.
What scared her was that she wasn’t alone. Something moved nearby and it wasn’t a
Reaper. Something sleek and deadly and silent except for a faint chuffing noise that
made her toes curl with the urge to run. The leopard.
She swallowed her fear and crept closer to the cabin. Poppy and Weasel were talking
in the relative privacy at the back of the SUV.
“There’s only one way out for her,” Weasel said as he pulled a hunting rifle from
the back of the SUV and slung it over his shoulder. “She has to be heading up to Mingo
Falls, then she’ll take the trail across and down the mountain.”
“You think you can catch her?”
Weasel pulled a pair of night-vision goggles from a small case and adjusted them onto
his forehead. He looked more like his namesake than ever: mean and nasty, ready to
do some damage. “Oh yeah. That bitch is good as dead.”
“Don’t let me down, Weasel.”
Weasel nodded curtly and took off across the clearing, heading back toward where he’d
seen her disappear into the woods. Hopefully the escape route she’d created before
setting up her ambush would keep him busy for a while as a false trail. If he fell
into one of the traps she’d left, so much the better. Now if she could just isolate
Poppy …
Poppy stayed behind the SUV for a moment, talking into his phone. A satellite phone
like Weasel’s. That’s how they’d coordinated all this despite there being no cell
service out here.
She smiled. That phone was how she was going to get everyone off this mountain safe
and sound. Poppy pocketed the phone and headed back inside the cabin. All she needed
was a little distraction for the bikers out front.
The leopard moved, heading farther into the woods. Fine with her, because Caitlyn
was planning to move in the opposite direction, around the perimeter of the clearing.
All the way to the cabin where Goose said there was a lion.
Bunch of half-assed, half-drunk Reapers wouldn’t know what hit them.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Caitlyn could smell the lion before she got anywhere near the cabin’s door. A strange
acrid combination of urine, rotten meat, and sweat socks. Hopefully the stench meant
the animal would leap at the opportunity for a little fresh air and some nice hunting.
She pressed her back against the far side of the cabin door and opened it, using the
door as a shield between her body and the lion. Nothing happened. Good grief, was
she supposed to call,
Here, kitty, kitty
?
Then she heard a snuffling sound followed by a wheezy cough. Poor thing had a cold.
She was about to give up and take her chances sneaking into Bernie’s cabin without
a diversion when she heard tentative paw steps. Good enough. She slid back around
to the tree line behind the cabins and skirted the shadows to Bernie’s place.
He had no locks on any of his doors, so getting in wouldn’t be a problem. The problem
would be what greeted her on the other side of the door.
Then came the sound she was hoping for: a loud roar followed by men yelling. Even
a few gunshots—which made her feel guilty, poor lion, but given the shooting skills
of the Reapers and the alcohol they’d been imbibing, she doubted she or the lion had
much to worry about.
She inched the door open, peered through it. Poppy and the other Reaper had their
backs to her as they watched the confusion out front.
The lion gave another roar, covering the tiny squeak as Caitlyn stepped through the
rear door of the cabin. Poppy stood directly in front of her, yelling directions to
his men through the open front door. The second Reaper held a gun loosely aimed at
Paul and Lena, but his gaze kept flicking to the window.
The lion must have leapt onto the porch because the second Reaper jumped while Poppy
slammed the front door shut. Caitlyn rushed in before either man could respond, jamming
her service weapon into Poppy’s ear and spinning him to use as cover between herself
and the other Reaper.
“Drop it,” she ordered. The Reaper raised his hands then remembered he had the gun
and looked at it uncertainly. “Put your gun on the floor and back out the front door.
Unless you want to see his brains splattered all over those pretty boots of yours,
do it now!”
Poppy nodded to the Reaper. “Do what she says.”
His voice was calm, too calm for her taste, but that was okay. There was enough adrenaline
rushing through her system for both of them. She jerked Poppy back away from the door,
giving the Reaper room to go through it.
“Paul, get his gun. Lena, secure the doors, front and back.”
Paul picked up the gun, holding it like he’d seen in the movies.
“Finger off the trigger, please,” she coaxed him. “Just hand it to me. Good. Now search
Poppy for weapons.”
“This is a mistake,” Poppy said.
Caitlyn ignored him. “Take his phone as well,” she told Paul. Lena was having trouble
with the doors. “Shove a chair under the knob. And close those curtains. Be careful,
stay low, below them.” It was like having kindergartners as partners. She wished Goose
were here.
Paul finished searching Poppy. Caitlyn would do a more thorough job as soon as she
had the man restrained. She handed Paul the duct tape and moved to the side while
Paul taped Poppy’s wrists. “Tighter. That’s it. Take the tape the whole way up to
his elbows.”
Where to put the man? She wanted him out of the way so she could concentrate on the
rest of the plan—which she hadn’t quite come up with yet. She remembered the large,
windowless closet where Bernie had his stash of comic books. “Lena, clear as much
out of that closet as you can—take the clothes bar out as well.”
A few minutes later she had Poppy on the floor of the closet, his ankles bound, and
all his weapons or anything he could use as a weapon removed. She squatted before
him, still holding the Glock as she perused his satellite phone. “I’m betting I’ll
find a whole bunch of calls to my uncle Jimmy on here.”
He smiled—the kind of smile that would make a rattlesnake turn tail and run. “Of course
you will, he’s a friend. We chat all the time.”
His answer only confirmed her suspicions. Sorrow and disappointment at Jimmy’s involvement
tried to crowd out the adrenaline surging through her. She shoved the emotions aside
to concentrate on getting them out of here alive.
“Yeah, I’ll bet. So much to talk about. Like killing a tribal elder to quash any opposition
to the casino, framing an innocent man and sending him to jail, arranging for his
execution twenty-six years later when he was about to talk, chatting about the best
place to kill his own niece. Tons to catch up on. Oh, and don’t forget the whole reason
behind all this: the money laundering.”
He rolled his eyes and chuckled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do. Only thing I don’t get is the part about Lena and the pact. The whole
thing makes no sense. You already controlled Hale—why upset things now by having him
killed?”
He shrugged at her. “Caitlyn, you’re delusional. Paranoid. Let me go now and we’ll
get you the help you so desperately need. An FBI agent, recently recovered from major
brain surgery, suffering from PTSD after killing a man, now taking hostages? This
isn’t going to look good.”
Ahh … and the final piece of her plan crystallized. “You’re right. Thanks, Poppy.”
She slammed the door on him and returned to the main room. Lena was helping Bernie
to sit up and drink another glass of Gatorade. God, she looked so much like her big
sister, Vonnie. And Caitlyn was going to have to tell her her dad was dead. Shit,
sometimes life sucked.
Bernie’s color looked better, but that wasn’t saying much. The chimp had reappeared
as well. “Where did it come from?”
“That man, he made me lock her in the bathroom,” Lena said, patting the chimp with
her free hand. “Poor Smokey. Yes, you’re such a good girl.” She looked up proudly.
“She bit two of them before they got us in here. You should have seen her.”
“Maybe I should put her in there with Poppy to stand guard.”
The chimp bared her teeth in a smile that made Caitlyn think that wasn’t such a good
idea—not if she wanted to keep Poppy alive. And she needed him, for now.
Paul paced in front of the window, stopping to look through the crack in the curtains,
then resuming his death march. “What are we going to do? They’re never going to let
us out alive. Not after this.”
He didn’t sound so appreciative of Caitlyn’s rescue efforts.
“Relax. They’re not going to risk Poppy.”
“How can you be so sure? They’re a bunch of maniacs. They have no respect for the
law or one another.”
“You’re wrong. They respect Poppy. He’s not just their leader, he’s like their father.”
He shook his head at her, eyes narrowed in disbelief.
“Just trust me.”
“Yeah, that’s what your friend the biker said. Right before he took off running, leaving
us to save his own skin.”