Forever Notorious

by Kathleen Brooks

  Aniyah set the gun down and leapt onto Dylan, taking him to the ground. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

  Abby had done exactly what she promised. She went home. And then she snuck into her father’s office. They hadn’t even hidden the plans. Well, it was only behind three deadbolts. But come on, it was practically an invitation to look at them.

  Abby looked at the map of Keeneston. She saw some of Dylan’s writing and then saw some she didn’t recognize. It didn’t matter, though. It was a well-thought-out plan. However, without backup, the town was vulnerable. Her friends had to be protected. The Rose sisters could keel over from a heart attack at another scare, and Poppy and Zinnia had actually taken a day off because they’d been so scared. And she could prevent it all from happening again.

  Abby opened one of the drawers in her father’s desk and grabbed a prepaid cell phone. She went upstairs to her room and dug through her clothes, finding what she was looking for. She slipped on Piper’s bulletproof jacket, an old pair of spandex running pants, and her favorite undergarment—a corset that could fit four guns, three knives, and a grenade. Luckily for her, she knew exactly where to find all of those, too.

  25

  Abby slipped from the house as dusk settled on the farm. She made her way through the back woods of the farm, past the cabin Nash and Sophie had once hidden in, and through the woods, heading toward Ryan and Sienna’s house.

  As she neared, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed the contact number listed on Relief for the Earth’s website. “This is Abigail Mueez. Tell Chet to pick me up at the following location,” Abby said to the person who answered. It might take a game of phone tag, but she knew her message would get to Chet eventually.

  Abby scaled the fence into Ryan and Sienna’s backyard and snuck her way toward the street. She had to be careful. They had one of the hounds from hell as their pet. Hooch was ugly as sin, but there was no questioning his protective instinct for family.

  Abby kept to the shadows as she made her way to the street. It was the back way to Lexington, and she intended to cut through Ashton Farm to get to the location of her meeting. It was farther away than Dylan’s and much more secluded than the main road.

  Her phone rang after she’d been walking for about two miles. “Hello, Abby.”

  “Lemon,” Abby said to the perky voice. “Are you with Chet?”

  “The question is who are you with?”

  “I’m alone.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Then follow my signal and meet me so you can see for yourself.”

  Lemon was quiet for a moment. “I’ll meet you, but not where you told us to. Stop walking right now. You’re in sight. Get on your knees.”

  Abby looked around, realizing there was no way they could be nearby. What was going on?

  “On your knees, Abby,” Lemon ordered again.

  Abby dropped to her knees.

  “Good. Now put your hands in the air.”

  Abby put the phone on speaker, set it on the ground, and raised her hands into the air.

  “Don’t move. I’ll be there to pick you up when I know you are alone.”

  The line went dead and Abby got comfortable. She closed her eyes and opened her senses. That’s when she heard the low buzzing sound of a drone. That was how they were keeping an eye on the town.

  “The cow is right over here,” the farmhand at Ashton Farm said as he stopped the golf cart. Wyatt Davies carried his bag up the hill to where the distressed cow was mooing.

  Off in the distance, Wyatt caught sight of a pair of headlights. Must be Ryan coming home, he thought as he began to examine the cow. But something wasn’t right. With the cow and the headlights. Wyatt already had a diagnosis for the cow, but it was the headlights he was trying to figure out because they stopped, and where they stopped was the middle of the road.

  “Do you have any binoculars?” Wyatt asked the farmhand.

  “Yeah,” he said, clearly not understanding why Wyatt would want them. “They’re in the golf cart.”

  “Please hurry and get them.” Something wasn’t right. Dread filled Wyatt’s belly as he squinted at the scene unfolding below him because highlighted by the headlights was a woman on her knees with her hands in the air.

  “Here you go,” the man said, handing them to Wyatt.

  Wyatt looked through the lenses and cursed when the image came into focus. A woman stood looking down at Abby, and she was holding a gun in her hand. Slowly, Abby rose and the woman pointed the gun at Abby’s back as they got into the car.

  Wyatt pulled out his phone and dialed Dylan. “Where’s Abby?”

  “She’s at home,” Dylan answered.

  “No, she’s not. I’m about two miles past Ryan and Sienna’s on the old county route at the edge of Ashton Farm and a woman is pointing a gun at Abby and leading her into a car.”

  “Shit!” The line when dead and Wyatt dug into his bag. He pulled out the tranquilizer gun and began to run down the hill.

  “You let her go!” Dylan screamed into the phone as he headed straight for the helicopter on Desert Sun Farm.

  “What are you talking about?” Jackson asked.

  “Abby! She’s on the old county route being taken by a woman with a gun.”

  “No, she’s in her room—” Jackson cursed as he opened her bedroom door. “We’ll meet you there in ten.”

  * * *

  A car pulled in behind Dylan. Walker and Aiden jumped out. “I got your text,” Walker said, pulling a bag from his trunk.

  “I was with him at the farm gym,” Aiden said as way of explanation. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m assuming one of you knows how to fly this thing,” Dylan said, strapping into his gear.

  “Yes,” they both said.

  “I’ll fly since I don’t have my equipment.” Aiden didn’t ask any more questions. He simply got into the helicopter and hotwired it since they didn’t have the keys. His cousins definitely married the right men.

  “Status?” Walker asked as he finished strapping into his old DEVGRU gear.

  “Abby’s been taken hostage. I have a feeling it was her plan.” Dylan leapt into the helicopter and Walker followed. Dylan shouted the location to Aiden who took off as Rahmi guards ran toward them since they hadn’t exactly gotten permission to take the royal family’s helicopter.

  Once airborne, Dylan saw a car tearing out of the farm at such high speed Dylan knew only Kale could be driving. “Fly in low and hot,” Dylan ordered as Walker hung out one side and Dylan the other. They were both strapped onto rappelling ropes and ready for anything.

  Dylan thought he’d be in a panic. The thought of something happening to Abby should cause a complete meltdown. Instead he was ice cold. His heart felt like it had stopped beating the second he’d gotten that call from Wyatt, and it wouldn’t start again until he had Abby safely in his arms.

  Abby sat calmly in the backseat of the car with the gun pointed at her. Lemon was chatty and Abby was happy to let her reveal as much as she wanted. She’d learned they’d taken over a house nearby and had been using drones to survey the town. Abby had learned there were twenty people living in the house and barn. That had given her pause. She’s thought there would be fewer than that. She’d underestimated the size of Chet’s following.

  She could easily take five, maybe seven. But not twenty. And neither could Dylan. At least he would live. She was willing to sacrifice herself to save him. She loved him so much it wasn’t even a question. She was doing this to save Keeneston and the man she loved.

  But for the first time in her life, Abby was scared of dying. The same thing she had to die for was calling for her to live. She wanted a life with Dylan. She wanted to marry him, and she wanted to grow old with him. Abby took a calming breath. If she had been dangerous before, she was lethal now that she had something worth fighting for.

  “I have a call coming in from Father Ben,” Walker said over his headset. “Hello?”


  Dylan looked across the helicopter to where Walker nodded and tapped Aiden on the shoulder.

  “Aiden, pick up on the bell tower at Saint Francis.”

  “What’s going on?” Dylan asked.

  “We’re picking up reinforcement.”

  Aiden maneuvered the helicopter at high speed with ease, and in less than a minute, Dylan saw a dark figure with a small bright white square at his throat reach up and grab the rope Walker had thrown down, then the helicopter was off again.

  Fifteen seconds later, Father Ben pulled himself into the helicopter. He was dressed all in black except for his clerical collar. Aiden’s face would have been priceless if Dylan weren’t so worried about Abby, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a breath.

  “Oy! What in bloody hell are you doing here?” Aiden asked in his British accent when Ben put on a headset.

  “Protecting my flock.”

  “Glad to have your help, Captain,” Walker said.

  “Captain?” Aiden asked. “Ah. Everything makes sense now. I thought you were trained. You served?”

  “Military chaplain before I was discharged for becoming a combatant to protect my Special Forces team,” Ben answered as he pulled the rifle from his back and checked it. “And here I find myself called to duty once again.”

  “Only use force if you have to,” Dylan ordered him. Ben nodded as they flew in silence.

  “There,” Aiden called out. “Ten o’clock.”

  Dylan looked out and saw the flashlight signaling them—Wyatt. He’d been able to follow Abby from a distance. “The house is at two o’clock,” Dylan said, looking around the area. It was the only place they could be. “Walker, send the location out.”

  As Walker sent out the coordinates, Dylan used night vision to get the lay of the land. There was a house and barn surrounded by woods on three sides. It didn’t belong to any of his family and was a couple miles past the Ashton family farm. He vaguely remembered the family who had lived there but couldn’t recall their names. He counted two full-sized passenger vans, a luxury sedan, and two SUVs. Whoever was there had company—lots of it.

  “Walker, you take the barn and I’ll take the house. We move together. Aiden, you and Ben cover us from the air,” Dylan ordered as he grabbed hold of the rope. He looked across at Walker. “Let’s move.”

  Dylan leapt from the helicopter and slid down the rope. If it weren’t for his gloves, his hands would have been shredded from the friction. The gloves he wore allowed for a quick drop. The second he and Walker hit the ground, he gave Aiden the all-clear signal and Aiden took off. They were still a mile from the location as he turned to Wyatt, who stood in the dark breathing deeply with a gun in his hand.

  “You ready to shoot someone?” Dylan asked.

  “Tranquilizer gun.” Wyatt took three deep breaths. “Those were the fastest miles I’ve ever run.” His breathing was beginning to calm. “There was a woman, a driver, and Abby. It looked as if Abby was expecting them. She was on her knees with her hands up in the air. Why would she do that?”

  “To protect us.” Dylan wasn’t angry because it was the same thing he planned on doing. He should have known Abby would find out about his plan. And normally he’d be supportive, but right now she was way outnumbered. And he had to admit, he’d have been outnumbered, too. He shouldn’t have taken it all upon himself to protect her. He needed support, and as he looked around, he saw he had it—a retired DEVGRU operator, a retired British SAS operator, a veterinarian, and a priest. He’d been in worse situations. “Wyatt, do you want a real gun?”

  “I haven’t shot a real gun in ages. I’m a good shot with this tranq gun. What do you want me to do?”

  “How many rounds do you have?” Dylan asked.

  “Five,” Wyatt answered as he patted the bag slung over his shoulder and across his chest. “And they are enough to drop a human.”

  “Walker is taking the barn. I’m taking the house. I want you to protect the area between. Someone comes running from the house or from the barn, shoot them.”

  Wyatt nodded and Walker rechecked his weapons. “Ready?” Walker asked as he looked around. Dylan was humbled. These men had lives to live. Some were trained, yes, but Wyatt wasn’t. Yet, neither of them had hesitated to help.

  “Let’s move out.” Dylan took the lead and melded into the shadows of the night.

  26

  Abby sat quietly in the back of the SUV as Lemon talked. She watched the dark scenery go by and tried to keep track of where they were going. They passed the Ashton farm and pulled up to a house and barn about two miles later. Lights were on all around the two-story farmhouse. It was painted white with black shutters and the barn, while painted black, had a large square wooden Amish quilt in oranges, reds, yellows, blues, and greens hanging on the side.

  “I won’t hesitate to shoot you,” Lemon said as they came to a stop. Two guards armed with rifles approached the SUV. One opened Abby’s door and the other kept his gun trained on Abby.

  She took in the location of the men and women as she scanned the scene—some were armed, some were not. With every person she saw unarmed, she saw her chances of survival increasing.

  The front door to the farmhouse opened and the Christmas wreath on it jingled. Abby watched as Chet strode out with a huge smile on his face. “Welcome!”

  Abby smiled back. Two could play at this game. “Thank you for inviting me. I’m sorry I didn’t come with a housewarming gift.” Like an RPG.

  “I must say I was surprised to get your call. But it saved me the hassle of tracking you down. Though it’s not too hard to find you.”

  “Shouldn’t be. I’m just at home, visiting my family. But you know that. Would you like to meet them?”

  Chet chuckled as he held the door open for her. “I may pay them a visit after we have a little chat. I assume all this bad press is thanks to you?” Chet turned to one of the guards, “Pat her down and don’t miss a spot. Then put these on her.” Chet tossed a pair of handcuffs to one of the guards.

  Abby unzipped her jacket and held out her arms. They’d find what she wanted them to find. The man began to pat her down and he pulled the knives and guns from her corset.

  “I’m hurt,” Chet said, putting his hand to his heart. “You come to my house armed?”

  “Well, you did try to kill me the last time I was invited to your house.” Abby lowered her arms and followed Chet into the living room. The blue and white plaid couch looked warm and inviting along with the oak tables and the fire in the old brick fireplace.

  “True, but that was about business. You lied to me, and I don’t do business with liars.”

  “You only do business with criminals,” Abby said, sitting back on the couch and crossing her legs. In the room were Chet, Lemon, and two guards. She could take them out, but the guards in the kitchen might kill her in the process.

  “And governments, celebrities, and nonprofits. I’m not a bad guy, Abby. I just want to make the world a better place. It’s such a mess right now that I’m the only one who can save it. I rid the world of viruses like Juan Carolinto and Omar Wasti. I’m the only one powerful enough to do that. The government hasn’t been able to do it. You haven’t been able to do it. So, how am I hurting the world when I’m saving it from those set on destroying it?”

  Abby didn’t answer, even when Lemon stood and approached her. There was no use arguing with him. Instead, she noticed through the side window of the farmhouse that the barn doors were partially open. There appeared to be a fire heating the area as people sat around it.

  “Answer our savior!” Lemon snapped a second before her hand cracked against Abby’s cheek. Well, Abby had had about enough of that.

  “Savior?” Abby questioned as she laughed insultingly. “I’m pretty sure the media are calling you a fraud and various governments have frozen all of your assets. Isn’t there a warrant out for your arrest?”

  “Society doesn’t wish to see the good. They only wish to tear down tho
se of us who are giving up everything for those in need. They do this out of guilt—guilt that they are too shallow and too selfish to give to those in need. They want their comfortable lives with their heads in the clouds. And when I show them the dire needs of the world, I become evil. I am willing to accept that burden if it saves others. History will tell the truth. History will mark me as the savior of the earth, the animals, and the human race.”

  “Blah, blah, blah, I’m a cult leader and until my funds were frozen, I had my own G5 airplane and multiple mansions. I saw all those limousines at your mansion on the beach. I saw the thousand-dollar bottles of champagne you were serving. And I see the designer clothes you two are wearing. I had a professor once say you could make a hell of a living helping the poor. It appears he was correct,” Abby mocked with the full weight of her father’s arrogance.

  Chet’s face froze in anger. His hands tightened at his sides as the men with the guns looked between them both. “If I didn’t have a plan for you, I would kill you myself for blasphemy.”

  “Plan for me? What can little ole me do for you?” Abby asked with a roll of her eyes. She was pushing him, and she’d push him until he snapped.

  “You’re going to take the fall for all you’ve done—the fake news stories, the frozen assets, the accusations of criminal activity. A lone government official who was angry when I caught her embezzling from starving children falsely reported me to the government,” Chet said with a smile he was sure appeared superior.

  “Really? How nice of me to do that for you. Too bad you can’t prove any of that while I can prove you are nothing but a low class, power hungry con artist who has bilked rich kids out of their trust funds.”

  Lemon gasped. “That’s not true. Chet never asked for money from me. I gave it to him willingly.”