Beyond Wilder

by Leigh Tudor

  Beyond Wilder

  Wilder Series, Book Two

  Lēigh Purvis

  Copyright © 2021 Lēigh Tudor

  www.leightudor.com

  Beyond Wilder

  Wilder Series, #2

  Cover design: Damonza

  Copy editor: Editing4Indies

  ISBN: 978-1-7367915-2-3 (ebook)

  ISBN: 978-1-7367915-3-0 (paperback)

  * * *

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book is dedicated to The PoolBoy.

  When it comes to loving me,

  nobody does it better.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “Life is not a fairy tale. If you lose your shoe at midnight‬, you’re drunk.”‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

  --Anonymous

  Gravel sprayed onto the lawn as Mercy spun the Range Rover across the driveway, veering toward the backyard. Slamming the brakes, she came to an abrupt stop just in front of the shed, causing Cara’s and Ally’s heads to whip forward and then back with equal force.

  Breathing hard and with a racing heart, Mercy waited for the dust surrounding the SUV to settle.

  Checking her rearview mirror, she felt a pang of regret as Cara and Ally sat as if shell-shocked from the NASCAR level speeds and careening turns they endured during the short drive to the house. The other contributing factor to their blanched faces was from watching the ambulance pull away with a sedated Loren handcuffed to a gurney while Alec sat fully aware and conscious in the passenger seat.

  Mercy’s head raced through the various scenarios that led to that unlikely event, but she just couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation as to why Alec would turn on her sister.

  Like the hardened criminal accomplice she was, she thought she’d witnessed every form of betrayal possible. But what happened today seemed so unexpected and confounding.

  Her phone buzzed. Speak of the devil.

  Alec sent a text to Mercy, instructing her to take Ally directly to Levi Simmons’ house and to advise their neighbor that he would be in touch with more details.

  Alec didn’t know Mercy planned to send Cara to Levi’s as well after gathering some necessary items along the way.

  Because Alec’s days were numbered.

  And she had every intention of making him pay. He would pay for making Loren the happiest she’d ever been. For allowing her to believe she had achieved everything she had dreamed of after living under Halstead’s ruthless thumb, then sending her back to the one place Loren would never return to willingly.

  Mercy leaned her head against the steering wheel.

  Despite Alec’s life-limiting betrayal, Mercy was the angriest with Loren. She could wring her neck for saying the one word that made Mercy want to throw knives and deliver throat punches.

  She banged her head repeatedly on the steering wheel as anxiety bubbled in her chest. What would they do without her? Loren was the glue that held the three of them together. Only she knew how to navigate the world outside of the Center while pulling together their dysfunctional little family. Mercy couldn’t do this by herself. Besides, how could they begin to enjoy life outside the Center, knowing Loren had been dragged back to it against her will?

  By the man who was supposed to love her.

  Her memories wrenched her back to that of the dead man lying at her sister’s feet less than an hour ago. Whomever he was, he must have had it coming. Loren didn’t kill indiscriminately. Fatal force was always her last option. And when Loren chose that level of aggression, for whatever reasons, the world instantly became a better place.

  Pounding her fist on the leather-wrapped steering wheel, she yelled in frustration.

  Catching Cara’s pooling, wide eyes in the rearview mirror, she regretted her outburst. But she was so angry for so many reasons.

  “She’s not doing this,” Mercy muttered, yanking open the SUV door as Cara and Ally slowly climbed out of the back seat, watching and following her from a distance.

  Mercy swung open the shed door and pushed the lawnmower to the back wall, which hid a round metal hinge attached to the floorboard. She pulled on the metal ring, uncovering a hidden bunker below.

  Several weeks ago, Loren had suggested digging the space to hide their small arsenal of weapons. It was funny how she always prepared for the worst-case scenario. But who would have ever thought?

  “Who are you talking about? Who’s not doing what?” Cara asked, poking her head through the shed door.

  “Loren,” Mercy said before lowering herself down the makeshift wooden ladder, feeling the temperature drop a couple of degrees as she descended.

  Her feet landed on the dirt-compacted floor, and in less than a minute, she partially re-emerged holding a Raptor hunting bow and tossing it on the floor by the door, followed by an M14 EBR. A weapon built to blur the line between an assault and a sniper rifle. One of Mercy’s all-time favs.

  Her beloved KA-BAR knife scooted across the floor as well, followed by an Espada folding knife.

  Satisfied with her choice of weaponry, including the pistol already in the glove compartment of the SUV, Mercy popped through the opening and lowered the hinged door.

  Securing the knife in her waistband, she picked up the bow in one hand and the rifle in the other. She moved past the girls, dumping the weapons through the back hatch of the Rover.

  Twisting her hands, Cara asked, “What are you going to do?”

  Mercy slammed the overhead hatch shut. “I’m bringing her back.” She turned toward the two girls, panting with a combination of exertion and anxiety. “She will not sacrifice herself. Not again.”

  Cara and Ally shared a glance. Cara offered, “Maybe we should call Alec? Find out where they’re taking her?”

  Mercy leaned toward Cara, trembling with frustration while willing back tears. “They’re taking her back to the Center, Cara. And it’s time we come to terms with the fact that Alec isn’t who we thought he was.”

  Ally’s eyes looked away, and Mercy instantly regretted the implication. It wasn’t her fault her brother was just another double-crossing, lying shithole of an XY chromosome.

  Mercy strode toward the side door of the house.

  “But you heard her,” Cara said, having to pick up the pace to keep up with her older sister. “You . . . you heard her. She said ‘Avatar.’”

  Mercy stopped and turned, “I know, I was there. And I don’t want to hear that cursed word ever again.”

  “But we swore that if she said… the word, we would let her go.”

  “I know that, Cara.” She closed her eyes and then opened them. “What you don’t know is she’s used that word three other times.”

&n
bsp; She held up three fingers, pulling one down at a time. “The first, when kidnapped by Somali pirates. The second, when we were double-crossed by a dirty prince from one of those Emirates countries . . . I can never remember which one. And the third, when I took the wrong dirt road in the mountains of Mexico, and we came across a poppy-processing plant and a disgruntled band of cartel thugs.”

  She resumed her trek toward the house and then stopped and turned, making Cara and Ally rear back. “I’m sick to death of walking away from her. Who the fu… fudge… is fighting for her? Certainly not Alec Wilder.”

  Ally lowered her head and crossed her arms in front of her as Cara looked unsure, her eyes pensive. “But we swore on the Bible. On our parents’ graves.”

  Mercy shook her head with a combination of frustration and despair. “I won’t do it, Cara. I won’t stand by while she’s carted back to the Center.”

  Reaching the door, she stopped mid-stride, realizing what was likely to be on the other side. She couldn’t allow Cara and Ally to see any more death and destruction today. After working so many jobs with Loren, she was fairly immune. But she didn’t want that for Cara or Ally. They deserved a life full of music and school dances, not of dead bodies and blood-splattered kitchen walls.

  “Stay here. I need to grab a few things.”

  She looked up toward the grassy marshes. The sniper could still be out there watching them.

  She turned toward the vehicle thinking the SUV sitting in front of the shed would better protect the girls from long-range scopes.

  “On second thought, go back to the Rover and wait.” She added, “And don’t move until I give the okay.”

  She paused with her hand on the doorknob as the younger girls sensed her serious tone and quickly made their way back to the dust-covered vehicle.

  Preparing for the scene she’d left earlier that morning; she opened the door that led into the kitchen.

  And she couldn’t believe what she saw.

  It was clean as in professional sweep clean.

  No blood.

  Not a single drop.

  It was as if it never happened.

  As if Vlad hadn’t sat in that very chair, confessing to his betrayal as a loaded pistol and a bottle of vodka sat benignly on the kitchen table in front of him.

  And then, moments later, shot in the head by a sniper through the window.

  But you would have never known that by looking at the room.

  How she wished it had been nothing more than a bad dream.

  Her eyes scanned the small kitchen, taking in the amount of effort and resources required for such a quick and thorough sweep. She had been with Loren on a few occasions when her sister had to call in a cleanup crew. But she had never seen the professional results firsthand.

  The windowpane over the sink had been replaced, the shards of glass no more than a distant memory. The sash pane was partially open, a breeze wafting through the eyelet curtains, alluding to nothing more than a lazy day on the Texas prairie. As opposed to the bloodbath she and Madame had witnessed.

  The dried blood splatter on her shirt, the sole indication of any wrongdoing.

  Noticing a piece of paper sitting on the Formica tabletop that was awash with blood only an hour ago, she picked it up and read it.

  Your sister has agreed to return home. If you interfere, you will suffer the same fate as your friend.

  Eyes watering, she brought a hand to her mouth and took a breath. She gingerly touched the back of the chair where her friend had sat that very morning.

  Vlad had loved her, left behind his home country to be close to her and take care of her, knowing she didn’t feel the same.

  But not once did he press her or ask for more than she was willing to give.

  And he died because of it.

  Died because of her.

  With that reality weighing on her mind, she tunneled her fingers through her hair, creating deep gouges along the strands. Her fingers moved to her mouth as if she could physically hold back the tears.

  Vlad lost his life because of her selfishness. Because she wanted to paint pictures, placing her silly artistic desires above his safety. Above his life.

  Despite her efforts, tears rolled down her cheeks.

  How many people had to sacrifice and die on her behalf?

  One thing was for sure. It wasn’t going to be Loren.

  Alec rubbed his eyes with the back of his palms. It was crazy how one’s life could change in a blink of an eye.

  Yesterday Loren was raving about what a great Thanksgiving they’d had and how she couldn’t wait to plan for the Christmas season. To no one’s surprise, it was unanimously voted that she was to oversee the church’s Christmas Eve festivities.

  Her enthusiasm was infectious, so much so that he had agreed to take everyone Christmas tree shopping as soon as he returned from his business trip.

  Instead, less than twenty-four hours later, Loren was sedated and handcuffed to a gurney in the back of an ambulance. Rather than arguing over which tree would look best in each of their living rooms, they were hauling her back to the place she risked her and her sister’s lives to escape.

  And Alec was her personal escort.

  He sat in the passenger seat next to Trevor Forrest, who was driving and appeared unaffected while his gut churned and his head railed with everything that was totally fucked up about the mission.

  Forrest, his partner and project lead, had been on the phone doing a lot more listening than talking. Over the past ten minutes, Alec heard him say that she fought against leaving. A few minutes later, he said, “I disagree, and you know why.” He finally agreed to provide the update.

  Whatever the hell that meant.

  Alec waited as Forrest dropped the phone onto the console and checked the rearview mirror for the white van following close behind.

  He knew he would gain more information if he waited patiently for it instead of making demands. That shit didn’t fly with former military types.

  Just when his nerves pushed to their limits, Forrest spoke. “What I’m about to tell you is outside of your security clearance but deemed need to know.”

  Alec gave a single nod. “About time.”

  “I convinced the Bureau and M2M the target wasn’t complicit. You as well. So, if you felt out of the loop, it was by design.”

  “How about we stop referring to her as the target. She has a name. Use it.”

  “Which one?”

  His hands fisted as he cricked his neck on both sides. “Her name is Loren,” he growled.

  Forrest nodded as if aware Alec was running out of fucks.

  “What makes you think I had anything to do with this? Years of intel should have been more than enough proof that I knew nothing about Loren prior to her coming to Wilder.”

  Forrest shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time former military personnel went dark for a higher payout and a pretty face.”

  Alec blinked slowly. “Did the Bureau contract M2M to assist with the investigation?”

  “Correct. We already established that.”

  Alec huffed. “Just trying to determine what’s fact and what’s a fabrication.” Despite a high amount of skepticism, it made sense. Using M2M to uncover as much intel as possible without some of the departmental constraints of a governmental agency afforded them more latitude with less red tape.

  Forrest continued the storyline as Alec sat stock-still, finally getting some answers. “To be more specific, to support CIRG.”

  Alec nodded, familiar with the Critical Incident Response Group. A tactical arm of the FBI. When he left the military, he considered becoming a part of CIRG but didn’t bother going through the second round of interviews as he learned the job required too much time away from Ally.

  Forrest added, “NCAVC is a part of BAU. They’re involved as well.”

  Alec squinted. “Now you’ve lost me.”

  “Let me back up. IOSS stands for Investigations and Operations Support Section
and is a branch organization of CIRG. One of two units under IOSS is NCAVC, National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime. That’s where BAU comes in. Stands for Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

  Forrest continued, his eyes moving from the road ahead and the rearview mirror. “There are several behavioral units divided up into categories. Each one researches certain types of crimes.”

  “Go on.”

  “BAU one, the team studying counterterrorism, arson, and bombing matters, has identified and scrutinized Loren for years. As well as BAU two, whose focus is on cybercrime and public corruption. And finally by BAU three, the team that researches crimes against children.”

  “Crimes against children.” Alec smirked with a shake of his head. “They’re doing a half-ass job if their research shows her capable of hurting children.”

  Forrest gave Alec a quick side glance. “Loren Ingalls, aka Ava Halstead, wasn’t profiled for enacting crimes against children. She’s been identified for being victimized as a child.”

  Alec froze and blinked, attempting to wrap his head around a smaller, more vulnerable version of Loren being hurt.

  On purpose.

  He turned toward the window, resting his elbow on the windowsill while rubbing his forehead.

  “What did they do to her?”

  “It’s conjecture, as all attempts to hack into the Utah facility have been countered.”

  Alec wouldn’t let up. “What did they do to her?”

  Forrest took a deep breath. “There have been a number of plea deals made where some pretty desperate criminals have identified Loren as a cyber mastermind who was coerced to perform a number of criminal activities. She was also in high demand for intel sweeps. You want dirt on someone? Set her up in a remote cave in front of a screen with the computing power of a Commodore 64, and she’ll dredge something up in a few days. If not, she’ll plant it.”