The Defiant: An Unbeaten Path (13 page)

Bryn had been hit but had managed to flee in the car only to crash it further down the road.

Brock’s team, which included Logan, had taken her to the hospital for treatment of her wounds, but she was under arrest. No one from their group, including Nicholas, would be allowed to see her after her surgery to remove two bullets that had hit her arm and shoulder. Bryn hadn’t yet fully recovered from her last gunshot wound, but now she was wounded again and this time in trouble.

“I demand to see her the second she comes out of surgery,” Nicholas said.

“Not going to happen, not until we question her,” Logan said.

“Question her? This is dumb. If she fired, it was because she doesn’t trust anyone. It’s an honest mistake.”

“Regardless, we have laws here, and we need to do an investigation,” Logan said.

“So what? She shot first; you guys killed one of ours!” Nicholas barked.

“Only after they began shooting at us.”

Nicholas’ veins were bursting from his head as his temper grew.

Abigail ran down the hall, crying, “Where is he?”

Nicholas stopped her and said, “I told you to stay at the house.”

“Dad, where is he?”

Nicholas didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but she needed to know. “Honey, Rob was killed.”

Abigail began to wail and clenched onto Nicholas. “It’s all my fault. I should’ve never voted to go. I caused this. I’m so stupid.”

“It’s not your fault, honey, it’s mine,” Nicholas said in an attempt to console her.

She tucked her head in Nicholas’ chest and continued to cry.

Nicholas looked at Logan, who gave a slight nod, indicating he understood this was a personal time. However, Nicholas wasn’t done with the conversation. “I need to see Bryn the second she’s out.”

Logan shook his head and replied, “Not going to happen.”

“I’ll get permission from the mayor; he’ll okay it.”

“I doubt that.”

“She only fired from fear, nothing more.”

“It was more, she severely wounded Brock.”

This was the first Nicholas had heard of Brock’s condition. “But on the radio I heard only two reported shot.”

“Two reported wounded; Rob died at the scene.”

“How’s he doing?” Nicholas asked with genuine concern.

“She shot him up good; he took several shots to the chest.”

“I’m sure the mayor will understand it was all an unfortunate accident,” Nicholas lamented, his fiery tone gone.

Logan shrugged his shoulders and replied, “Not sure, this is a bit personal for the mayor. Brock is his son.”

Carlsbad, CA

The whoosh of the helicopter brought dozens of people out from their homes to investigate what was happening. The residents of Rancho Del Sur hadn’t seen a helicopter since everything stopped working weeks before. So when the CH-47 Chinook spun around and made a soft landing in the large cul-de-sac at the end of Nicholas’ old street, they had hoped to see government officials coming to save them. However, when the rear ramp lowered, their hopes were crushed. A team of six men wearing black and heavily armed rushed out and secured the perimeter. Just by their appearance, the people of Rancho Del Sur knew this wasn’t help.

Fathers and mothers told their children to go hide, and those who had weapons brought them to the ready for a fight if necessary.

Following closely behind the security team were Anatoly, Karina and Michael.

Michael pointed up the street and said, “His house is five doors down on the right.”

“Are you sure?” Anatoly asked.

“Yeah, my brother has lived here for years and this, for some reason, I remember,” Michael said. He turned and continued, “In fact, I’ll prove my memory for this place is solid. Over there is a trailhead that leads you down towards that road.”

Anatoly looked and saw a sign that read ‘TRAIL’. He looked back at Michael and nodded. He then turned to the security and ordered, “You, you and you, come with us.”

Michael, not sure of what to expect, had requested a rifle and pistol and had been given both. Not wishing to stay in the street any longer than they needed to, Michael walked briskly up the hill towards Nicholas’ house. He scanned the area and took notice of how the neighborhood’s manicured look had deteriorated. The green grasses that lined the street were overgrown and turning brown. Trash, debris, abandoned cars and other types of litter lay on the street and sidewalks. The hoods of all the cars in view were up as their owners made a desperate but futile attempt to get them running again.

Michael saw dozens of eyes on him but felt dozens more. He, like Anatoly, agreed that this mission had to be quick. The helicopter was a tempting morsel, and the longer they sat, the greater the chance was to lose it. One thing in this world worse than someone in need was someone desperate with nothing to lose.

A woman holding a swaddled newborn baby came running towards them. “Are you here to help? Please help us.”

A man, most likely her husband, chased after her. “Lisa, come back here. I don’t think those people are here to help!”

The man on point security raised his rifle and aimed.

Michael saw this and rushed him. “Don’t you dare shoot that woman!” he said, batting down the barrel.

“Lisa, come back!” the woman’s husband pleaded.

Lisa stopped and froze when she saw what happened between Michael and the security man. She knew instantly that they could be more of a threat than helpful.

The point security man glared at Michael and snapped, “Don’t fucking do that again.”

“Don’t shoot women holding babies.”

“Everyone shut up and keep moving,” Anatoly barked.

Michael returned the hard stare from the security man and moved on.

Karina ran up alongside Michael and said, “His name is Francis. I don’t like him either.”

“With a name like Francis, I can see why he has anger problems,” Michael joked and kept walking. When he crested the hill and stood at the end of the debris-ridden driveway, his heart dropped. The garage door was open and Nicholas’ Mercedes and BMW were sitting there with the doors and trunk left open. More debris and trash extended from the garage into the driveway. To the right, the front door was open and the same trail of debris came from it. There was no doubt in his mind that the house held no occupants. He just prayed he wouldn’t find their bodies inside.

Karina stepped beside him and said, “I’m so sorry, my sweet.” She looked at the condition of the house and surmised the same thing as Michael.

Anatoly brushed by with two security men and proceeded down the driveway and into the house through the garage.

Michael and Karina followed Anatoly and found the same inside.

“Nicholas, it’s Michael!” Michael cried out, his voice echoing off the still walls.

The house had been ransacked, the kitchen taking the brunt of the invasion.

A member of the security team came into the kitchen and said, “The house is clear. No one is here.”

“Any bodies?” Michael asked.

“No, sir.”

“Well, they’re gone, not surprising,” Michael said as he paced around, looking at the terrible condition of the house.

“The next question is, where are they?” Karina said.

“They could be anywhere,” Anatoly exclaimed.

“He wouldn’t have taken his family just anywhere; Nic isn’t like that,” Michael said.

“Your memory seems fine when it pertains to your brother.” Anatoly smirked.

“My memory is fine now, but anything over the past year seems foggy, so it makes sense that I know who my brother is and what he might have done,” Michael countered.

“Then you should know where they went,” Anatoly said.

Francis walked in with an armful of framed photos and set them on the counter. “Maybe one of these might help tell us where they might have gone.”

“Pictures of family?” Anatoly asked.

Michael looked at the stack of frames and the sight gave him a name. “Uncle Jim, I would bet my last dollar they went to Becky’s uncle Jim’s house in Montana. It makes sense for Nicholas to take his family somewhere they’d have a chance to survive.”

“But how would he get there?” Karina asked.

“That’s a good question.”

“Hence why they could be anywhere in between here and Montana,” Anatoly said, again inserting his negativity.

“Or they could already be in Montana. We should go,” Michael asserted.

“Michael, I need you to think hard before we go. We’re here; we need to take time to search the house. You need to think very, very hard about why you think Nicholas has the coordinates and just how you gave them to him,” Karina said.

“She’s right,” Anatoly added.

Michael looked at them both. He wanted to argue for leaving now, but her point was valid. “Okay, let me start in his office,” Michael said and left the kitchen on his way to Nicholas’ office.

Vista, CA

“You two can sleep in the upstairs master bedroom,” Vincent suggested.

After the altercation, Bridgette asked and Vincent immediately agreed to her and Noah coming to stay at the compound. Several times she referred to it as his place or house, but when he mentioned the property, he called it the compound. Even though Roger had given him the house and land, he just didn’t feel right calling it his.

“Goodnight, mister,” Noah said.

Just then Vincent remembered he had never formally introduced himself. “Just call me Gunner.”

“That’s a cool name,” Noah replied.

“I think so too. How about dinner?”

“Upstairs, you,” Bridgette ordered. She turned and quickly said, “Good night.” She rushed up the stairs behind Noah and disappeared.

“I guess that means no on the dinner,” Vincent joked. He could feel his foot throbbing. Without a doubt the incident today didn’t help. With no one to entertain, he went about his nightly ritual of securing the house before making dinner.

The sun had set, leaving only darkness. Vincent lit candles throughout the house and in the kitchen ran a few LED lanterns to help illuminate while he prepared dinner.

“Smells good,” Bridgette said from the doorway of the kitchen.

Vincent’s attention was on stirring the refried beans he had cooking in a saucepan. “I didn’t hear you. I thought you were down for the night.”

“I thought so too, but the aroma of those beans got to me.”

“You like ole Mexican food?” Vincent joked.

“I live in Southern California, of course I do,” she said and walked further into the kitchen. She took a seat on a bar stool next to the kitchen island.

“It’s a nice house you have here. I looked around and saw some kids’ rooms.”

Vincent scooped out some beans and put them on a plastic plate and tossed on two warmed corn tortillas. He spun around and placed it in front of her. “What’s the equivalent of bon appétit in Spanish?” he asked, not wanting to get into the house or why he was there.

She laughed and replied, “Not sure, but I’m so hungry.”

Vincent scooped a plate for himself and set it across from her. He was happy to see her approachable and wanted to take advantage, so he grabbed a bottle of wine and brought it back. “Some vino?”

“Sure,” she answered and dipped her tortilla in the beans.

Vincent found two glasses, pulled the cork and poured the wine. He set the bottle down and picked up his glass to toast. Ever since a young age he had seen his parents toast and recognize someone or something over a drink. So in honor of that tradition, he offered his glass but didn’t know what to say.

She looked oddly at him but picked up her glass too. She saw him hesitate, so as to not have him hanging, she said, “To you, thank you.”

“Oh, not necessary.”

“I have to apologize for my conduct earlier. To say I’m going through a lot doesn’t seem to say enough.”

Their glasses were still in the air; neither had taken a drink.

“I was going to toast to having a drink. It’s been a while since I had someone to toast with,” he joked and took a large drink.

She did the same and said, “That’s pretty good.”

He looked at the bottle and said, “It’s Silver Oak Cabernet from Napa Valley, is that good?”

“Yes, it is, nice choice. You have good taste.”

“Hmm, I’m not much of a wine person. If it was Boone’s Farm, I’d be happy. Anything to take the edge off.”

They exchanged small talk over the meal while pouring glass after glass of wine until they had finished the bottle. He went, got another and opened it.

After pouring another glass full, he said, “I thought about those bikers afterwards, and I have to admit I was too slow in dealing with them.”

“I thought about it too. I want to make it known that I’m not some cold-blooded killer. When Noah told me what they did to him, I became enraged.”

“What happened? Where did he go?”

“He snuck out to go get the damn cat he’d seen at the Taylor house. He saw that old tabby when we were there weeks ago; he felt bad for the old fleabag and wanted to bring it home. Without going into too much detail, they were scavengers and found him there. That kid who was pinned under the side car tried to sexually assault him, but Noah fought back and ran. God knows how that little guy was able to escape, but he did. He took a shortcut across a field, but they saw him from the road and followed him to our place. I have no doubt in my mind that if they had caught him, he’d be dead.”

“I’m sorry that happened to him.”

“I tell him over and over again to stop taking off. This time I think he learned his lesson.”

“I’m not normally that guy that doesn’t take care of business,” Vincent said but was interrupted.

“No shit, I saw you race over, foot broken, and with one shot take them both down. No need to explain anything, trust me,” she declared, wanting to defend him.

“Yeah, but I acted too slowly. I guess I was never expecting to see women and children acting like that. However, I should have known, I was held up the other day by a woman,” he then added with a laugh.

“You see, I was just trying to train you.”

“Cheers to that,” he said and held his glass high.

She could feel the alcohol and welcomed it.

As he poured another glass, he said, “I like wine, but I love beer. Too bad they didn’t have any.”