Say No More

by Rose, Karen

  Mercy was a lot calmer than she thought she’d be under the circumstances. Of course, she was digging her nails into her palm so hard, she’d be surprised if she wasn’t drawing blood.

  Ephraim had advanced another few feet and now stood in the middle of the road, less than ten feet from Hunter’s SUV.

  Mercy met Farrah’s frightened eyes. ‘Hey, Ro. You okay?’

  Of course Farrah didn’t answer or nod. But she blinked once. For ‘yes.’

  Mercy’s throat was suddenly so thick that she couldn’t swallow. ‘I love you,’ she said quietly.

  Farrah’s eyes narrowed. And she blinked twice. For ‘no.’

  Not that she didn’t love Mercy back, but because she was forbidding her to do anything stupid.

  ‘That’s very sweet, wife,’ Ephraim snarled. ‘But I don’t want you here. I want you in the vehicle. Now.’

  ‘Let her go and I’ll go with you.’

  ‘You’re lying,’ he spat.

  Mercy met his eye. ‘Maybe, maybe not. But you won’t know until you let her go. You can’t handle both of us. We’re not twelve years old.’

  He sneered. ‘Tell your guard dog to come out and throw his guns to me. Even his backups.’

  Mercy heard the light thump-thump of Rafe’s cane as he came up behind her and her heart sank. Rafe, no. What are you doing?

  When Rafe stopped next to her, he tossed his gun to the side. It landed on the road, skidding until it came to a stop about ten yards away. ‘I have no backups,’ Rafe said. ‘If you don’t believe me, feel free to check for yourself.’

  Ephraim snarled. ‘Get down, Sokolov. On your stomach. Face to the ground. I’ve had enough of you.’

  Mercy tensed, every fiber of her existence screaming at Rafe for leaving the shield of the SUV.

  Rafe went down on one knee slowly, his hand sliding down his cane to grip it in the middle, which she hadn’t seen him do before.

  Ephraim’s features twisted with rage. ‘I said face to the ground.’

  ‘I’m slow,’ Rafe said. ‘I’m on disability leave, you know. Which should humiliate you, because I took you out in the airport from a wheelchair using only my cane.’

  A muscle twitched in Ephraim’s taut jaw. ‘Face. To. The. Ground.’ Keeping the pistol pressed into Farrah’s temple, he straightened the arm across her throat, aiming the revolver at Rafe. ‘I am so going to love killing you.’

  Panic began to swirl and Mercy had no idea what was happening. Until Rafe offered her his cane, his expression one of broken devastation.

  ‘Give it back to my dad, okay?’ he said thickly. ‘It belonged to my grandfather.’

  ‘But . . .’ Oh. It hadn’t belonged to his grandfather. Karl had made it for him only three days ago. Rafe was faking it. He had a plan.

  She drew a shuddering breath. ‘Don’t do this,’ she whispered, not faking her fear.

  Rafe continued to slowly lower himself to the ground. ‘Tell Gideon that I’ll always owe him for saving us that night.’

  Mercy’s eyes filled with tears and she bent over, trying to pull him back up. ‘Please, Rafe, don’t do this.’ She tried to make him take back the cane, but he kept pushing it back into her hand.

  ‘Keep it,’ he finally snapped. ‘You might need it someday.’

  And that was when she saw movement behind Ephraim. Gideon had come out of the woods and was soundlessly approaching Ephraim. Then she understood.

  With Ephraim pointing his revolver at Rafe, that was one less gun pointed at Farrah. But he still had the pistol pressed against Farrah’s temple, his finger still on the trigger. If I can make Ephraim angry enough, he might point the second gun at me. Then Gideon could make his shot and Farrah would be free.

  But goddammit. That was still one gun pointed at Rafe. Panic began to swell in her mind and she dug her nails into her palm again. Think. Think. Be ready for whatever happens. At least Rafe’s wearing tactical gear. Farrah has none.

  ‘Take off that damn helmet,’ Ephraim ordered.

  Fucking hell.

  One side of Rafe’s mouth lifted. ‘Somehow I thought you’d say that.’ Resting his weight on one knee, Rafe tugged at the strap holding the tactical helmet in place. ‘Anything else?’

  Gideon was two feet behind Ephraim now, weapon in one hand, his other outstretched toward Ephraim’s pistol. Ephraim didn’t notice, too focused on Rafe, the revolver in his hand steady. And pointed at Rafe’s head. Rafe’s gun was out of reach and all Mercy had was his damn cane.

  Keep it. You might need it someday.

  I took you out from a wheelchair, using only my cane.

  Oh my God. Really? She wanted to scream. This was Rafe’s plan? For her to hit Ephraim with the damn cane while Gideon wrested the revolver away from Farrah’s head?

  Apparently so.

  Gripping the cane in both hands, Mercy was shaking, but chanced a glance at Farrah. Her best friend’s eyes were narrowed, aware that something was going down.

  ‘Say goodbye, Mercy,’ Ephraim said, smiling. ‘But make it quick.’

  But his smile vanished when Gideon reached for Ephraim’s wrist and bent it at an odd angle that had Ephraim howling in pain and his hand opening completely. The revolver went off as they’d feared, but it was no longer aimed at Farrah. The bullet hit the road, sending asphalt chips flying. Farrah immediately dropped to the ground and Mercy brought Rafe’s cane down on Ephraim’s other wrist, hearing a cry that sounded agonized and feral and . . .

  And was coming from her own mouth as she swung the cane at Ephraim’s head, at his face, at his chest. She kept swinging and swinging.

  Dunsmuir, California

  Wednesday, 19 April, 5.20 P.M.

  Rafe twisted back up to his knee and yanked the revolver from Burton’s now limp fingers. It had all happened in less than two seconds, but it wasn’t over yet.

  Mercy was screaming at the top of her lungs. Screaming and swinging Rafe’s cane and striking Burton wherever she could. Again and again, with a viciousness that could only come from the sudden release of emotions damaged through horrific abuse.

  Gideon stood frozen, his gaze locked on his sister, who swung the cane in a mad frenzy. Rafe shouted his friend’s name, but Gideon’s mind was in another place. In another time.

  Oh. Oh no. Too late, Rafe realized that Gideon was coming face-to-face with the man who’d beaten him near to death the night of his thirteenth birthday. The man who’d brutally raped his mother and his sister. Oh, Gid. I’m sorry. Gideon had thought he could handle this, but . . . Who could?

  Part of Rafe wanted to let Mercy beat Burton to death, but he knew she would regret that later. Other people deserved to see Burton punished. The bastard needed to face his many victims, which couldn’t happen if Mercy killed him.

  ‘Mercy!’ Rafe lunged for her, but couldn’t reach her from his knees.

  Farrah reached for Mercy’s arm but she couldn’t extend her hands high enough with her wrists being bound with tape. She was flung backward when Mercy swung the cane again, too deep in her rage to know whose hands were on her.

  ‘Help me up,’ Rafe gritted to Farrah. Offering her shoulder, she gave him something to grab on to as she helped heft him to his feet. Catching the cane midswing, he handed it to Farrah, who laid it on the road and backed away as if it were a live snake. Farrah sank to her knees, trembling head to toe as the reality of being safe finally sank in.

  But for the moment, Rafe was focused on Mercy, turning her in his arms. Balancing on one foot, he wrapped his arms around her and rocked her slowly. He took off her helmet and stroked her hair, pressing her face into his neck and murmuring that it would be all right. That they’d done it. They’d stopped him.

  That she’d stopped him.

  But he didn’t think she heard a word he said. She was sobbing uncontrollably, her legs abruptly folding, t
aking them both to the cold ground.

  Behind him, Rafe could hear the click of handcuffs and Gideon’s hoarse voice commanding Burton to his knees, then informing the man of his rights. Seeing Mercy collapse must have been the jolt he’d needed to come back to himself.

  It was over. They’d done it. Turning on his ass so that he could see Gideon, Rafe pulled Mercy into his lap, unwilling to let her go. Burton was on his knees, hands cuffed behind him. His face was bleeding and . . . Rafe swallowed. His eye had fallen out under Mercy’s well-deserved assault.

  Burton looked ghastly. There was no other word for it.

  ‘Is it over?’ Farrah whispered. She looked up at Gideon. ‘Please say it’s over.’

  Gideon nodded once. ‘It’s—’

  But he didn’t get to finish, because Ephraim Burton jerked, a quiet pop filling the air. The man toppled over as they watched in shock.

  Farrah screamed. Then gagged.

  Because half of Burton’s head was gone, his brain matter spattered over all of them.

  Mercy stared in shock. No, more than shock. Her expression was slack, her eyes vacant. This was the disassociation he’d seen at the airport. Helplessly Rafe squeezed her a little too hard, trying to give her that little bit of pain she needed to defuse the panic.

  ‘Mercy. Mercy.’ But he’d missed that little bubble of quiet space she’d spoken of, that moment it took to center herself and stop the panic attack in its tracks. So he held her. It was all he could do. ‘Gideon?’

  Gideon was still staring at Burton’s body. ‘Who . . . who shot him? I didn’t.’

  At that moment Amos came running from the other side of the SUV, rifle in hand, and Gideon’s expression hardened. Coming to his feet, he bellowed, ‘What the hell, Amos? I had him subdued.’

  Amos ignored Gideon’s question. ‘Mercy! Get her down!’ he shouted, and a second later Rafe had been knocked over, Mercy still in his arms and Amos covering them both, having mowed them down with his body. Rafe felt Amos’s body jerk above his, just as Burton’s had done.

  What the hell? What the fuck was happening?

  ‘Oh no. Oh no.’ Gideon fell to his knees. ‘Amos? Oh my God.’

  Then there was a loud crack of gunfire, coming from the trees nearest the SUV. Daisy was still out there. What the actual hell? Why had she fired her rifle?

  ‘Get him off me,’ Rafe gasped, pushing at Amos, but the man was dead weight. ‘What’s happening? Who shot him? Did Daisy shoot him?’ He didn’t know if he meant Burton or Amos or both of them. His thoughts were beginning to fray, his head spinning from the impact with the ground.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Then Gideon’s numb-sounding voice hardened in urgent command. ‘Farrah, get Mercy into the SUV. We have an active shooter.’

  Rafe heard Daisy’s voice, getting louder as she came closer. She was running and out of breath. ‘That last shot was me. It was DJ who shot Burton. He was trying to shoot Mercy, but Amos . . .’ She looked at Amos’s still form in dismay. ‘Oh God. He shot Amos?’ Not waiting for a reply, she squared her shoulders, charging into action as she usually did. ‘I’ll get the first-aid kit. Farrah, come with me, honey. Gideon, get Amos off Mercy. I’ll come back for her in a second.’

  Rafe’s head was still spinning from hitting it on the ground, and, coupled with Daisy’s whirlwind of energy, he was unable to think clearly. ‘Amos? You okay?’

  ‘No, he’s not okay,’ Gideon said briskly. ‘He’s been shot.’

  Oh right. Daisy said that. Amos was shot. Amos’s weight disappeared, Gideon having rolled him off Rafe and Mercy. ‘Oh no,’ Rafe breathed. Amos was bleeding and it appeared to be from a neck wound.

  Daisy ran back to them, a first-aid kit in her hands.

  ‘Thank you.’ Gideon took the kit. ‘Can you move Schumacher’s SUV? Park it between our SUV and the trees across the road. If DJ comes back, I want cover. We’re sitting ducks here. I want SUVs on both sides.’

  Daisy ran to do as he asked.

  ‘DJ?’ Rafe asked thickly, not sure he’d heard her correctly.

  ‘That’s what she said. Just wait until she comes back. I need to get Amos’s wound packed and I’m not . . .’ Gideon grimaced. ‘I’m not okay right now.’

  A minute later they were sheltered between the two SUVs. Daisy jumped out of the vehicle she’d moved, dropping to her knees next to Gideon, who glanced up at her, his jaw taut. ‘Explain, please. Slowly.’

  ‘Amos saw DJ first,’ Daisy said, taking over Gideon’s task, putting pressure on Amos’s wound. ‘That’s the name that Amos said right after Burton fell over. Then I saw him too, when he stepped out into the open. DJ was aiming for you and Mercy, Rafe. That’s why Amos was running. That’s why he threw himself over you. The shot you heard was me, trying to stop him. I did hit him, but it wasn’t enough to take him down. He’d shot Amos by that point and I guess he decided to retreat. He got away on a dirt bike, through the forest. He’s gone. For now, anyway.’

  Rafe stared, his thoughts running in slow motion. ‘DJ Belmont, the one who killed Mercy’s mother?’

  Daisy nodded grimly. ‘And the one who unwittingly helped Amos escape Eden.’

  ‘How do you know you hit him?’ Gideon asked.

  ‘Because he dropped his rifle. He picked it up and ran for the dirt bike. If he’d been able to, he would have kept firing, so I assume he’s injured badly enough to keep him from shooting, but he’s not dead. Unfortunately. Is Mercy hurt?’

  Rafe had already checked her for injuries. ‘I don’t think so. This is what she calls her zombie episodes.’

  Daisy lightly stroked Mercy’s face. ‘Honey?’

  But there was no response. Shit.

  Do something. At least for Amos. Rafe patted his pockets, searching for his phone to call 911, but Gideon was already calling, telling the operator where they were, and then he hung up. ‘I have to leave my phone open. We have other issues.’

  Rafe frowned. ‘What other issues?’

  ‘Hunter and I found the SWAT team about a quarter mile on the other side of the coordinates. Of the six men, four were dead. The other two are injured badly. Molina’s also hurt. Tom’s with them now.’

  ‘What about Damien?’ Rafe demanded. ‘And André?’

  ‘They’re okay. I was running back here to you guys when I heard the shot. That was Ephraim, shooting at André, but he missed. Damien was still in the camper. André was trying to follow Burton, because he’d taken Farrah. André said that Burton ran them off the road, then drugged them. Burton was going to shoot André and Damien right before I got there, but Farrah kicked him almost in the nuts. Enough to send him off-kilter. That’s when he left with her to come here.’

  Rafe shuddered, fear for his brother slowly ebbing away. ‘What about Agent Schumacher?’ he asked, although he thought he already knew and dreaded the answer. ‘She was circling around to get to Ephraim from behind. The way you came. But she never came back.’

  Gideon shook his head. ‘She’s dead, too. I found her body when I was running after Ephraim. I think DJ must have shot her, too. Ephraim’s rifle didn’t have a silencer and the golden gun he’s been using got kicked under the camper by Farrah when he was dragging her away.’

  Daisy looked over her shoulder at the SUV where Farrah sat, staring straight ahead. Probably in shock, Rafe thought. At least André was okay.

  ‘Way to go, Farrah!’ Daisy cheered, then frowned. ‘But why did DJ kill Agent Schumacher? And Burton? And why would he try to kill Mercy?’

  ‘Schumacher was likely in his way, like Molina and her crew,’ Gideon said grimly. ‘And he went after Mercy because he didn’t finish the job the first time. Mercy didn’t think that Ephraim knew she was still alive, and I agree. I think DJ lied and said she was dead and now he’s afraid that the community will find out. If you hadn’t stopped him, he probably would have kept firing. I wou
ld have been the next target, but he would have tried to silence all of us because we know the truth, that Mercy is not dead. The only person who could get that information back to Eden was Burton, because the rest of us don’t know where Eden is. And now that Burton’s dead, he can’t tell us.’

  Rafe felt Mercy shudder in his arms. She looked up, blinking like an owl. ‘I did it again?’

  Rafe kissed her forehead. ‘Burton is dead.’

  ‘It was DJ,’ Gideon added.

  Mercy closed her eyes. ‘Tying up loose ends?’ She sounded weary, but unsurprised.

  ‘Seems like it,’ Rafe murmured.

  ‘Oh!’ The cry came from Farrah, who was now out of the SUV and running. ‘André!’

  Rafe slid to the front bumper of the SUV on his ass, too tired to even crawl. But he was glad he’d made the effort, because Damien and André were crossing the road, moving like they were sleepwalkers, plodding and slow. André had one arm around Damien’s waist, keeping him upright, but his other hand held a golden gun and strapped to his back was a rifle.

  Damien fell to the ground beside Rafe with a groan. Dropping the golden gun, André wrapped Farrah in his arms, her happy cry like music after everything they’d experienced.

  Rafe slung an arm around his brother’s shoulders, immediately letting go when Damien groaned. ‘Sorry, D.’ He grimaced at the sight of the open wound on his brother’s head. ‘That happen in the wreck?’

  But Damien didn’t answer, because he was staring at Amos. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He was shot protecting me,’ Mercy said softly. ‘André, where did you get the rifle?’

  ‘And is that the Santa Rosa madam’s golden gun?’ Rafe added.

  Daisy glanced up briefly before returning her attention to Amos’s wound. ‘That looks like the rifle DJ was using.’

  ‘Because it is,’ André said, ‘if DJ’s the guy with the really blond hair and the rifle was the one he was using to shoot at you.’

  ‘He is and it is,’ Daisy told him.

  ‘Well,’ André said, not letting Farrah go, ‘Farrah kicked the gun under the camper when Burton was about to shoot me with it. Once Gideon came along and untied Damien and me, I went under the camper for the gun. Came in handy, too. I saw the guy with the rifle on the edge of the woods. He fired twice before somebody shot him in the shoulder.’