Necessary Pursuit (A Trinity Masters Novel)

by Lila Dubois

  “How to get him away from them?” she asked.

  The henchmen had split into two groups—Boss and Number Two talking quickly in Serbian. Chicago, Teenager, and the other four huddled together, speaking quietly in English. They occasionally threw looks her way. Looks that said the unimaginative assholes were tired of abusing Luca and looking for their next target. Between her and Oscar, she was the far more obvious victim.

  “Or are you worried about the way they’re looking at me?” she asked when Oscar didn’t reply.

  “Black SUV.”

  “What?” Was Oscar losing it? Maybe the stress of the situation had gotten to him.

  “I think I see a black SUV in the distance.”

  Selene’s heart stopped.

  Oscar turned toward her. “There are men approaching. Black clothing, no markings. Not SWAT. Not police. I don’t think they’re—”

  Glass shattered, and she had a brief view of a small black canister sailing through the air before the world exploded with light and sound.

  Chapter Five

  Oscar slitted his eyes open. Red spots danced in his vision. They went with the ringing in his ears.

  He could see just enough to make out that around the room, everyone—including Selene—had hit their knees. Most had their eyes squeezed shut and hands over their ears. Only the two less stupid guys—the two he was pretty sure were foreigners with limited English—had managed to hold on to their guns.

  Luca, bloody and lying on the floor, blinked, seeming to stare into middle space. He’d had his eyes closed when the light and sound bomb—a flashbang—had come through the window. Oscar had been turned toward Selene, which had saved his vision.

  Plus, he’d had experience in the aftermath of a flashbang. Langston had gone through a period where he’d developed a couple of versions of the explosive with various levels of light exposure, decibels of sound, and also a few that gave off smoke.

  Oscar had learned to work through the blindness and deafness so he could chase down his brother and beat the shit out of him.

  There was no point in talking, Selene and Luca wouldn’t be able to hear him, so he dashed forward and yanked Luca off the floor.

  Luca started to fold, dropping back to his knees, so Oscar shook him. Luca blinked, focused, realized who had grabbed him, and miraculously was able to stand.

  Oscar gave him a shove toward the interior kitchen door, and Luca stumbled into the hall. He hauled Selene up. She started to shove him away, her eyes open but completely unseeing. Damn it, she didn’t know it was him. Oscar cupped the back of her head and kissed her.

  That worked.

  She stopped fighting and reached blindly for him. He grabbed her hand and dragged her out the door and into the hall. He glanced back in time to see the presumed leader of their first attackers look up, notice Luca was gone, and then raise his gun.

  The fact that, with his ears ringing, he wouldn’t hear the sound of the shot before he felt the bullet rip through him somehow made this worse.

  Just before he slapped the door between the kitchen and hallway closed, he saw the back door explode inward and two men, moving at a crouch, their faces obscured by black face shields, entered the house. Their gear was uniformly black, no “police” or “sheriff” or “SWAT” patches anywhere in sight.

  Fan-fucking-tastic.

  How many people were after these fucking plans?

  Oscar grabbed Luca again, hauling both him and Selene toward the front door. As they passed, he looked around, hoping to see Bill and Wayne, but they were nowhere in sight.

  A quick glance out the front windows showed two black SUVs flanking Luca’s car and a team of four men standing on the porch.

  He was not waiting around to find out who those jokers were.

  With a snarl he couldn’t hear, he changed course. Bill and Wayne had parked on the side of the house, so he led his people into the small makeshift office that was just off the main living area. The window shutter probably made a racket when he unlatched it, but hopefully everyone was still in partial hearing loss. The window itself was heavy duty, dual-paned, but after he unscrewed the sash lock, it slid open easily. Knowing his luck, the damn thing had probably screeched, so he waited, muscles tense, but no black-clad men appeared.

  He slid out the window, dropped to his feet, and waited, ready to be shot at any moment.

  Selene was shoving Luca, who threw a leg over the windowsill and slid out. Oscar caught him, wishing he had a way to cut the zip ties so Luca could use his hands.

  Selene practically threw herself out the window, and together they raced for the car. Oscar jumped into the driver’s seat while Selene and Luca dove in through the door behind him, clambering onto the back seat awkwardly. The keys were right where he’d seen Wayne leave them—in a compartment in the center console. He jabbed the button, turned the car on, and threw it into drive.

  Men came running from the porch as he sped past. He saw one raise a gun. In the rearview mirror, he saw Luca and Selene duck.

  The crack of the shot was just barely audible over the ringing in his ears.

  The car lurched, but the windows remained intact. He had no idea where they’d been hit—fuck, if they’d shot the gas tank, would the car explode or just lose gas and leave them stranded?

  He put his foot down, speeding along the rural drive until he hit the main road, which wasn’t much of a road. Outside the window, white flakes started to whip by. He thought it was damage to his vision until they started to fall faster.

  Snow.

  Because, of course, it was starting to fucking snow.

  What they needed was a main road—a real main road, not a country road. A highway or interstate. Someplace with people, or that would get them to people. He kept driving, far faster than was safe, hoping he’d recognize something and know when to turn.

  Far behind him, barely visible through the flurries, a black SUV appeared.

  “Fuck,” he snarled, surprised he could almost sort of hear his own voice.

  He spotted a turnoff and took it, the vehicle rocking up onto two wheels. Selene scrambled from the back into the front passenger seat. She opened the glove compartment and took out a gun.

  Hey, look, now they were armed.

  “Do you know how to drive in snow?” she yelled.

  He shook his head, grateful his hearing was returning.

  She made a face. “Slow. Down.”

  He slowed even though it made him feel frantic.

  Outside the window, the snow started to stick.

  He turned right, then right again, hoping to find his way back to the main road they’d been on, behind the SUV, so he could once more try to nose his way back to a freeway.

  Instead, the roads twisted and turned, the scenery outside becoming hilly and even more rural, a dangerous thin white layer of slippery snow covering the road, making it hard to see. If it wasn’t for the vegetation that now sported layers of snow on the upper branches, he might not have known where the road was at all.

  “We need to pull off. We can’t keep going in this,” Selene said, her voice slightly distorted. His ears were still ringing, but he could hear.

  “If we do and they find us—”

  “If we can’t drive in it, they can’t, either.” The fact that Selene, who was an upstate New Yorker and knew her snow, was more worried about the road and weather than the bad guys was telling.

  On their right, a gentle slope led down to the base of a small ravine. Trees, close enough together that they only caught glimpses of a stream at the apex of the valley, would provide some hiding if he could find a place to pull off.

  Then, through the trees, he saw the top of a roof, visible only because the geometric rectangular white of the snow-lined roof caught his eye amid the natural landscape. A second later, he glimpsed a small break with a mailbox beside it. He turned onto the drive.

  The slope down to the house seemed much less gentle when he was trying to keep the heavy car from
sliding down it through the snow than when he’d just been looking at it. The tail end of the car started to fishtail, but he managed to keep control—barely—and they reached the bottom without damage.

  “No lights,” Selene said. “Or other vehicles. Doesn’t look like anyone is home.”

  Oscar nodded, glancing in the rearview mirror at the driveway they’d just slid down. He didn’t have to be a snow expert to know this car wasn’t going to make it back up to the road they’d just left. Not that he planned to try. The snow was falling so thick and hard, he was struggling to make out the hood of the car anymore.

  This wasn’t good.

  “Come on,” he said, twisting to look at Luca, who had managed to push himself upright in the backseat despite his bound arms.

  Opening the doors let in a blast of ice-laden cold air. Oscar left getting Luca out of the car to Selene while he ran for the cabin. A quick look in the windows showed no signs of anyone. On one hand, that was good because it meant there was no chance of someone mistaking his asking for help as an attempt to break in. He’d just left the scene of one shootout, and he’d like the “not getting shot” track record to stand.

  On the other hand, it meant he was going to have to actually break in.

  He didn’t see a video doorbell or security company sticker. That didn’t mean those things weren’t there. It just meant he didn’t see them.

  Selene and Luca joined him on the covered porch.

  “We need to get him inside.” Selene’s tone was urgent.

  Oscar looked at her, worried, but she was looking at Luca, who was hunched forward, his head hanging.

  Oscar went to one of the windows, braced himself on the porch rail, and then kicked out the bottom pane of the window with his heel. He knocked the rest of the glass free, then started to climb in when Selene thrust Luca at him and edged her way in front of him.

  “I’m a better fit.”

  She climbed in, careful but quick, and a second later the front door opened.

  The cabin was small but comfortable, the decor featuring far more chicken-themed items than he’d realized even existed.

  Selene raced for the kitchen and started opening drawers. A second later, she returned with a pair of kitchen shears.

  Luca’s wrists were bloody, and he made a small noise of pain as she slid the scissors under the wide zip ties and snipped them.

  “Thank you,” he said, then groaned as his wrists were finally free, his arms falling to hang at his sides.

  Over Luca’s bowed head, Selene looked at Oscar and they shared a grim expression.

  They set Luca in a chair at the round kitchen table. “Find something to cover that window. I’ll figure out the heat situation.”

  It was warmer inside than out, but it wouldn’t stay that way with the cold air pouring in through the window. He did a quick search through the house, including the miniscule root-cellar-style basement.

  It was there he found a small toolbox and a few oddly sized pieces of plywood.

  Wood in hand and carrying the toolbox, he came back up. Luca was at the kitchen sink letting cold water run over his wrists.

  He found Selene on the front porch, loading a bucket with coal.

  “Saw this on the way in. We’re in coal country.” She carried the scuttle inside and walked over to the coal-burning stove. Oscar was very impressed when she grabbed the heat gun that rested on top and held it against the coal. “It will take a while, but this should heat the house.”

  Oscar fitted the largest piece of plywood over the window—it only covered half of it, then awkwardly tried to hold it in position with one knee. Luca came and silently braced the wood while Oscar nailed it to the wooden window frame.

  Together, he and Luca finished covering the window, working quickly and quietly. Once they were done, Luca retreated back to the kitchen table, while Oscar added a layer of black garbage bags and duct tape to the remaining open space, sealing up the frame.

  Selene was rubbing her arms. “It’ll take a minute to warm up but we have heat.”

  “What we need is a phone,” Oscar said. Now that the adrenaline high from their escape had faded, Oscar was thinking about all the things they didn’t have—their phones, wallets, or Selene’s laptop.

  He didn’t have any electronics. For the first time in his adult life, he was totally tech-less.

  Oscar bent, braced his hands on his knees, and tried not to panic.

  “Oscar, what’s wrong?” Selene asked.

  “My phone. Your computer.”

  A chair squeaked across the floor loudly as Luca stood. “The copy of the plans? They have it?”

  “No, but it’s a computer. I don’t have access to a computer. Any computer.”

  “I…do not understand,” Luca said slowly.

  “Oscar’s having a small breakdown.” Selene patted him on the head. “There, there.”

  The anger-laced panic was interrupted by a surprised snort of laughter. Oscar straightened, then folded his arms. “Did you just pat me on the head?”

  “Would you rather I pat your ass?” she asked with a smile.

  Luca cleared his throat. Oscar’s reply died on his lips. Now was not the time for sexy banter.

  Though really, was there a bad time for sexy banter?

  “Thank you,” Luca said quietly. “For rescuing me. It was kind, and more than I could have imagined.”

  Selene opened her mouth, but Oscar put a hand on her shoulder. “We saved you because we need answers.”

  Luca nodded, as if that was what he’d expected.

  “Who are—” Oscar started.

  Selene held up a hand. “No. First, we contact the Grand Master.”

  Oscar snarled, and Luca looked confused. “Who?”

  Selene winced, realizing what she’d said.

  “We could do that,” Oscar added. “If we had phones, but we don’t.”

  Luca once again cleared his throat. “Isn’t that a phone?” He pointed to a decorative chicken phone mounted on the side of a kitchen cabinet. “A, uh, chicken phone.”

  Selene picked up the chicken-leg-shaped receiver and started stabbing the egg-shaped number buttons.

  “You know the number?”

  “If you had access to the number for the Batphone, wouldn’t you memorize it?” Selene asked.

  “She’s not Batman,” Oscar muttered, aware he was perilously close to sounding sulky.

  “Sebastian, it’s Selene Tanaka. Yes, we’re alive.” Then she frowned. “Wait, what rescue?”

  Oscar stomped over and made her twist the receiver so he could hear.

  “We sent in a rescue team, but they said you fled with Mr. Campisi,” Sebastian was saying.

  “The second set of bad guys was actually…” Oscar ground his teeth.

  “Hello, Mr. Hayden. And yes. You ran away from your rescue. We were briefly concerned that perhaps you had changed allegiances.”

  “What?” Selene demanded.

  “You took Mr. Campisi and fled.”

  “Because we were expecting a SWAT team. That’s who Bill and Wayne said they called.”

  “Well, shit.” Sebastian’s tone had relaxed. “That makes sense.”

  “You should have had them identify themselves,” Selene snapped.

  “Or wear the cult logo on their uniforms,” Oscar added.

  At the table, Luca started at the word cult. Oscar glanced at Selene, who raised a brow. What did Luca know?

  “Bill and Wayne, we looked for them…” The anger was gone from Selene’s voice, replaced by worry.

  “They’re alive. On their way to the ER to be checked out. Both in stable condition, but they were drugged so we need to be sure.”

  Oscar felt almost sick with relief. He’d been trying not to think about the fact that they might have left Bill and Wayne to be either captured or killed.

  “You took Mr. Campisi as a hostage, then?” Sebastian asked. “Dangerous, but there are no doubt some benefits. We will reroute
the strike team to pick you up—”

  “We’re in the middle of what looks like a blizzard. I doubt you’ll be able to get to us,” Selene said grimly.

  “Fuck. How? It’s not even that cold here in Boston.”

  “Well, Bum-fuck, Pennsylvania is now covered in a foot of snow.” Oscar looked out the window. The world outside was blindingly white, the wind whipping the falling snow sideways so it even coated the trunks of the trees.

  “Are you safe?” Sebastian asked.

  “Yes. Did you catch all the Serbian henchmen?” Selene asked.

  “We have twelve men in custody.”

  “That was all of them,” Oscar confirmed.

  “How did you know they were Serbian?” Sebastian asked.

  “Luca guessed, based on the language they were speaking.”

  “Ah. I…hope to be able to speak to Mr. Campisi soon.” Sebastian’s words were carefully chosen.

  “He’s the bomb designer.” Selene stressed the last word.

  There was a long beat of silence. “I see. That changes things,” Sebastian murmured.

  “Exactly, because this whole thing wasn’t already fucked,” Oscar said.

  They spent a few more minutes on the phone. Selene rummaged until she found some mail with the address of the cabin on it, and they gave that information to Sebastian, who stepped away for a few minutes to confirm that the rescue team, who apparently had been out looking for them, had been forced to stop because of the snow.

  The three of them were stuck until the roads were passable. It was safe to say if they couldn’t get out, whoever lived here couldn’t get back.

  Oscar poked around the kitchen enough to confirm that there was food and they weren’t in danger of starving. Ten minutes later, they ended the call with Sebastian, and Oscar realized that there was nothing they could do but wait. If he hadn’t pushed them to run, hadn’t literally driven the getaway car—away from their rescue team—they could have been on their way back to Boston and back to their normal lives.

  Except he’d joined the cult, so what the hell did normal even mean these days?

  Oscar scrubbed his hands over his face. “What do we do now?”