by Debra Webb
“I think there’s more coffee in the thermos if you want some,” Raymond offered, coming to stand alongside Court.
For a moment Court studied the man who had befriended him, then shook his head. Was he feeling any regret? “No, thanks, I’m good.”
Raymond’s usually easy smile was forced. Court wondered if Neely would kill Raymond, too. After all, it was Raymond who had brought Court into their tight circle. Court hoped like hell they didn’t. None of this was Raymond’s fault, he was nothing but a pawn in Neely’s demented plan.
Court next wondered how long it would be before Austin figured out something was wrong…if he did. Would Neely set up some sort of ambush for when Austin showed up tomorrow, or would he simply allow them to find nothing out here but the trees and tranquillity God intended? Court hoped for the latter. By noon today the deal would be done, Court would be dead, his body disposed of, and Neely and his arms would be back at the compound. And no one would be able to prove anything.
Court considered his only option. He could manage to get close enough to Neely—use him for leverage—in an attempt to stop the exchange. Maybe he should just kill the bastard and be done with it. Raymond leaned against the hood of the truck, only a couple of feet away from Court. These men would never allow Court that close to Neely. Not now. And, the truth was, he still needed Neely and whatever information he stored in that warped brain of his.
Court didn’t know how he’d been made, but he knew he had. Although Neely had obviously ordered the men closest to him to carry on with the charade, since Court was still armed and seemingly a part of the mission, Raymond hung too close and Ferguson kept his hawk-eyed gaze glued to Court. If Court made one wrong move it would end now.
He had no choice but to allow the scene to play out and see where it ended. Barring a miracle, he was dead one way or the other, but there was no point in hastening the event. And Court was a firm believer in the motto that it wasn’t over until it was over. Hell, he could get lucky. The world could end in the next five minutes. Yeah, right. Court scrubbed a hand over his jaw. The only thing he could do was pay attention and take his best shot at getting out of this situation if the opportunity presented itself.
They would disarm him first, he reasoned, then make an example of him to the others. The twelve volunteers who’d been chosen to take part in today’s little adventure would rush back to the compound with the news, thus discouraging future betrayal.
Neely made everything work to his advantage. Though he undoubtedly felt like a horse’s ass for trusting Court in the first place, he would turn it around to cast the best light upon himself.
The other thoughts and memories he’d kept at bay all night suddenly came flooding back. Court had a son. A son who would never know him if Neely had his way. Court hoped Sabrina was making preparations to get them to safety. Once this mission was over, Ferguson might just do something really stupid like trying to hurt Sabrina or Charlie. The kid had been pretty rough on his sister last night. Court hated that he might not be there to help set the kid straight when this was over. But more than anything, the thought that he wouldn’t be able to help raise his son knifed deep into his gut.
He’d spent pretty much the entire journey contemplating the things he’d done wrong in his life. And there were plenty. Most especially the way he’d treated Sabrina in the past. She’d been a part of his life for as long as he could remember. He’d watched her grow up, and he’d known that she loved him. Oh, he’d tried to pretend that it was just a crush, but deep down he’d known better. Twice he had taken advantage of those feelings, both times pretending that though he cared for her, it wasn’t anything to make a big deal over. He’d justified his actions by rationalizing the situation down to a matter of lust.
But he’d been wrong.
His mistake had put Sabrina on the offensive. She had protected herself and her baby the only way she knew how, by eliminating Court from her life. When he’d showed up here again, she’d been frantic to keep her secret safe. Only it seemed that her heart wouldn’t let her push Court completely away. And, like always, he’d been ready and willing to take advantage of the situation.
God, he was a jerk. Though what Sabrina had done was wrong, he definitely couldn’t put all the blame on her shoulders. In one long burst Court exhaled the breath he’d been holding. He had a lot of damage control to take care of—he surveyed the militant group around him, his gaze eventually landing on Neely—if he got the chance.
A shout of warning echoed from the advance scout Ferguson had positioned on the slight rise in the dirt road that led into the clearing. Fahey was coming. As Court moved to attention, he recalled his son’s angelic face and then that of Sabrina’s once more before storing them carefully away. The next few minutes would require all of his attention and cunning. Somehow he had to find a way to get back to Sabrina…to somehow make things right for his son. For all of them.
A large panel truck sporting a moving company logo rounded the bend in the road and entered the clearing where Court and the others waited. Two men, armed with Uzis, climbed down from the cab of the truck. Both quickly approached Neely.
“You have the money?” one inquired by way of a greeting.
“Where’s Fahey?” Neely returned, cool, composed.
“When I see the money,” the man said with a smile that was neither a gesture of amusement or friendliness.
Neely nodded to Ferguson, who quickly produced two steel briefcases from the back seat of the jeep. After inspecting the contents of the two cases, the man removed the two-way radio from his belt and gave the go-ahead to Fahey.
In anticipation of the other man’s arrival, Neely stepped down from the jeep and readied to meet him. Another panel truck, this one marked with the advertisement of a Canadian furniture company, followed by a black SUV, entered the area. Court recognized Fahey when he stepped from the SUV. Though he’d never seen the man in person, the arms dealer’s face was easily identified from the photographs in his Bureau file. Olive coloring, dark hair, but the really distinguishing feature was the scar that slashed his jaw from the corner of his left eye to his mouth. This was the mark of his one up-close encounter with a federal undercover agent.
Once the formalities were out of the way, the transfer of cash and the shaking of hands, the work began. The weapons were stored inside specially designed couches, rather than the typical transport crates. Court wondered how many border inspectors this ruse had fooled. Neely’s trucks contained storage crates for careful transport of the new weapons. Court worked alongside Raymond and the other lieutenants to transfer the weapons. The rest of the men remained at their posts, just to be sure Fahey’s entourage didn’t make any unexpected moves.
It didn’t take long to get the job done. Court removed his hat and wiped the perspiration from his brow, then reached behind him to adjust the Beretta tucked in his waistband. He settled his hat back into place and scanned the faces around him. Court needed to get close to Neely. Taking anyone else hostage while he still had his weapon would be pointless since all but Neely himself would be expendable.
Taking a shot at Neely would be suicide, not to mention foolhardy. He’d never get the shot off. Neely was too smart not to have the other lieutenants watching Court. And, Court needed him alive. Their leader was confident that these men would protect him at all cost. Court already knew that Neely liked to make a big show. He wouldn’t simply shoot Court. Not enough drama. Court glanced at the tree line to his left. If he moved in that direction, he might just make it before taking a fatal hit.
But he doubted it. He would just have to figure out another scenario.
SABRINA STRAINED TO HEAR the voices outside. Even with the driver’s side window open, she couldn’t quite make out what was being said. She hadn’t heard Court’s voice, or at least she didn’t think she had. She prayed he was still alive. With the windows in the car tinted so darkly, she couldn’t see anything, either. If she could sit up, she might be able to see better
, but each time she made even the slightest move, her guard reminded her that she’d better stay perfectly still. Sabrina glanced up at Jed Markham. He stared intently out the front windshield. She wondered if Jed realized that Joshua Neely really intended to kill her. Maybe not with his own hands, but he would order the deed done, and any one of his brainwashed soldiers would obey.
Even Jed.
Would Jed stare at her lifeless body then and realize what he had done?
Sabrina turned away, pressing her face into the sweat-smelling cloth seat. She had known Jed and his wife Amy all her life. Like the Cartwrights, they hadn’t been able to have any children. And she also knew that Jed hadn’t been the same since Amy died. Joshua Neely had simply come along and filled the hole left in Jed’s life.
She closed her eyes and fought the sting of tears. This was real. She had dozed off sometime during the long ride. She didn’t know how long ago, since, bound as she was, she couldn’t look at a watch even if she’d been wearing one. Another wave of nausea washed over her and Sabrina tried to swallow, but the gag made it nearly impossible. When the car bumped over the rougher road, and then parked, Sabrina had roused from her fitful sleep. Waking up had brought the awful truth back to her—she was going to die.
Her heart ached at the thought of never seeing her baby again. Mrs. Cartwright would take good care of him, she knew. At least for as long as she was physically able. If Neely’s men hadn’t found Charlie, maybe even he would help with Ryan once he realized how wrong he had been. And if somehow Court had gotten away, she knew for certain that he would see after his son. He would love him as well. The hot tears leaked past her tightly closed lids. She wouldn’t torture herself anymore with regret over the mistake she had made. She’d been wrong, but then, so had Court. It was too late to do anything about that now. She would spend the final minutes of her life in prayer for those she loved.
No matter what Joshua Neely did to her, she would spend the time she had left with her family fixed firmly in her mind. She would tune all of this out. Because no matter how tough life had been the past few years, she was extremely lucky to have known a man like Court and to have her son.
Her only regrets were that she wouldn’t be able to raise her son and that Court would never know how much she loved him. She should have told him, but everything happened so fast and she’d been so afraid.
“Get up.”
Sabrina opened her eyes at the gruff sound of Jed’s voice.
“I said, get up. We got something for you to see.”
As she struggled to push up into a sitting position, Sabrina thought she heard the booming voice of Joshua Neely. Primal yells suddenly rent the air. She peered through the darkly tinted windows into the flurry of activity going on a few yards away. What had Neely said to stir such an outburst?
“Maybe this’ll make you think twice about cavorting with traitors,” Jed warned.
COURT WATCHED WARILY as Neely raised his hands to quiet his men’s enthusiasm. He managed to ease one step closer to Neely’s position while Ferguson and the others applauded until their hands surely ached. All Court needed was one or maybe two more opportunities like that and he’d be close enough to strike. It was worth a shot. He had to do something, he couldn’t just stand back and wait to be eliminated.
“This is the moment we have waited for,” Neely declared in that self-righteous hell-and-brimstone preacher tone he could adopt so readily.
“Our friend Mr. Fahey has performed a great service for this cause,” Neely continued. “Without his offer of help we would not be here today. Nor would we be standing on the threshold of this pivotal moment. He is but one of our mighty allies. There are others who stand poised on this important precipice.” He swept his arms around him in a magnanimous manner. “Soon we will have the freedom for which our forefathers fought. Our brothers in the Black Order will stand behind us, providing fortification. No longer will we lurk in the shadows, a forgotten reminder of what once was. We will step into the light and make ourselves known.”
Another round of exuberant applause followed the words Court needed to hear. Neely was working with the Black Order. Damn. Austin needed that information. Between Neely, all this firepower, and the Order, something big was going down. Court was sure of it. He gained a few more feet toward his goal. Almost there.
One of Fahey’s men passed a steel case, similar to those containing the money, only more rectangular in shape, to Ferguson. The Demo. Cold, dark tension gripped Court’s throat. This was the real killing machine. If that case contained even half as much as Court feared it did, Neely now had enough explosives to take down an area the size of a city block with the ease of leaving a thermos on a cafeteria table in the right place.
Ferguson held the case high for all to see. A roar of victory rolled over the assembled group. Desperation twisted in Court’s gut. He had to do something. He couldn’t let Neely leave this place with that kind of firepower.
“This Demo—” Neely indicated the case Ferguson so proudly held “—will enable us to do our job with the smallest possible loss of life to our number.” Approval and sounds of agreement reverberated through the men. Neely nodded and Ferguson loaded the case into the jeep they had shared.
Court had been right. Neely had big plans. Court derived no pleasure from the realization.
“Mr. Fahey,” Neely said, turning his attention to the man before him. “We invite you to stay a few minutes longer and enjoy a very special climax to our successful transaction this day.”
Fahey glanced at his watch. “My time is limited.”
“Only a few minutes,” Neely insisted. “This I think you will want to see.”
This was it.
Court twisted and propelled himself toward Neely, simultaneously withdrawing his Beretta. His left arm went around Neely’s neck, his right hand bringing the barrel of the weapon level on the man’s temple. Almost as if in slow motion, the sound of weapons engaging filled the air.
“Nobody move!” Court commanded.
“Do you really think you’re going to be able to walk out of here, Court?” Neely asked.
Court backed up a couple of steps, dragging Neely with him. “Maybe, maybe not, but I’m damned well going to try.”
Ferguson and three of the other lieutenants followed their every step, slowly closing in around them.
“Back off,” Court warned Ferguson as he got too close. The man fell back a step. Court’s heart pounded like a drum, beating out the anticipation of the next move on his left or right. Or, hell, even behind him.
Neely suddenly dug in his heels and stopped short. “Enough,” he proclaimed loudly.
Court glanced at the tree line—not quite close enough to make a run for it. Or, hell, maybe he’d take his chances. “Don’t make me pull this trigger,” he warned Neely. “I’d hate to have to kill you.”
Ignoring Court’s threat, Neely commanded, “Bring out the woman.”
For a moment Court couldn’t comprehend what Neely meant by that order, but then he knew. The bottom dropped out of his stomach. Oh, no. They couldn’t have…
Jed Markham dragged Sabrina from the car with the darkly tinted windows and pushed her forward. He stood behind her, his gun aimed directly at her head. Her hands and feet were bound, a gag tied around her mouth. While Court watched in horror, Markham leaned down and cut her feet loose, then gave her another push toward Neely.
“Let her go.” The words came from Court as he lowered his weapon in immediate surrender. “You have what you want. Let her go.”
Ferguson snatched the Beretta from Court’s relaxed hold, then jerked from his shoulder last night’s issued rifle. Markham held Sabrina only a few feet away, close enough that Court could see the sheer terror in her eyes.
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” Neely explained. “You see, we don’t abide traitors or their whores.”
Court went rigid with fury. The heat of it helped melt the glacier of fear threatening to turn his insides
into a solid block of ice. “She didn’t do anything. And she damned sure doesn’t know anything.”
Neely smiled as if Court were a disobedient child. “Oh, but she does now.” He gestured to Fahey, who watched with interest. “I’m sure our Mr. Fahey wants no one who can identify him left to chance.”
Fahey inclined his head in acknowledgment of Neely’s conclusion.
“This man—” Neely pointed an accusing finger at Court “—would ruin all that we have worked so hard to accomplish. He would deem himself more capable of judging right from wrong than we. Our struggle for freedom would end here, now, with him if he had his way. He is a traitor. He has lived among us, taken our kindness, and now he would destroy us.”
Outraged grumbled through the onlookers.
Court tried to reassure Sabrina with his eyes. He wanted to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be all right…somehow, but he couldn’t. She was going to die and it was his fault. She had suffered so much pain already at his hand, and now this. Court felt sick to his stomach. Why couldn’t Neely just let her go?
“I say kill him,” Ferguson called out above the grumblings.
“Death,” another cried.
“Kill him!” yet another agreed.
Neely turned back to Court, a satisfied expression on his face. “You see, Court, my followers are faithful to me. Your short friendship, just like your life, means nothing to them. Nothing at all.”
“Shoot me, then,” Court demanded, “but let Sabrina go. She’s innocent,” he added, grinding out the words.
“By your sins, her fate has already been sealed.”
Court stepped in close, getting right in Neely’s face. Ferguson nudged him with his rifle, but Court ignored the warning. “I’ll see you in hell, Neely, maybe not today, but soon. Very soon.”
