Roaming Wild (Steele Ridge Book 6)

by Tracey Devlyn

  She took an involuntary step backwards as her gaze surveyed the rest of the room. An enormous concrete basin was tucked into a deep, shadowy alcove. Sitting in front of the alcove rested a pair of women’s sandals and a pile of clothes. Something about the basin and clothes made the hairs at the back of her neck prick to life. Lifting her nose, she sniffed the air, like a canine tracking a scent. She couldn’t be sure, but the odor seemed to be emanating from the alcove. Again, she detected a strong chemical and something earthier.

  “I warned you that the view wouldn’t be pleasant.”

  Heavy footsteps above snapped her attention away from the basin. She didn’t stop to think about the consequences or the identity of the stranger or even if the person could hear her through the floor. She acted on instinct. Pure self-preservation. She screamed. At a pitch she didn’t even know she could attain.

  Eli flew at her, covering her mouth, swinging her around. Before she could catch her breath, he had her back pinned flush against his front. The close proximity made her stomach crawl like a mass of worms.

  “You shouldn’t have done that.” Eli’s voice contained one part fury, one part fear.

  The pit’s hatch opened, and the hand covering her mouth grew damp.

  A work boot appeared on the top rung of the wooden ladder followed by a pair of long legs covered in worn jeans. A lean torso wrapped in a red polo shirt emerged next. Sterling-gray hair cut military style glinted in the flickering light.

  When the stranger faced her, she was struck by his resemblance to Eli. An older version, a harder version, a one-eyed version.

  The moment he saw her, his hard features transformed into something unstable. He zeroed in on Eli. Then on the dead guy. “What have you done, son?”

  Son? This was Blaze Harwood? Wildlife trafficker? City councilman?

  Eli removed his hand from her mouth, but kept his arm secured around her middle.

  “Don’t make me ask you again. I sent you to take care of the agent and you bring me a woman.”

  “She’s Conrad’s girlfriend.”

  Blaze studied her. Roamed over her body like she was an unfamiliar species. “I’m not interested in Conrad’s women. I’m interested in shutting him down before he ruins me and my business.”

  “He’ll come for her.”

  “When?”

  “Soon, I’m sure.”

  “Did you lay a trail? To my backyard?”

  She could almost hear Eli’s gears churning. If he said yes, he’d win the old man’s approval for his cleverness, but would lose points for leading a federal agent to their doorstep, removing any doubt of their involvement in the recent events.

  “You didn’t bring her here to catch Conrad, did you, son?”

  Eli swallowed hard, though he said nothing.

  “What’re her transgressions?”

  “She made me lose face in front of mama.”

  “How?”

  Again, Eli retreated into himself.

  “Is this why you killed your mama?”

  Eli’s eyes flickered.

  At Blaze’s blunt assessment, a small ray of hope ignited in her chest. He seemed to understand the volatility of the situation. Could he get her out of here?

  “The dogs found her body,” Blaze said. “All the damage they did still couldn’t hide what caused her death. Your brother and I had to put her in the pot.”

  Eli’s attention moved to the basin. “In a few days, all the evidence will be lost.”

  Bile crept into her throat as the meaning of their words sank in. She would never get out of here alive.

  Blaze began a slow circuit of the pit. “Did Greta say something to upset you?” When Eli remained mute, Blaze slashed his hand through the air, connecting with Eli’s cheek and the back of her head. Eli lost his grip on her waist and she stumbled away.

  “You don’t decide whether or not you’ll answer me,” Blaze yelled, getting into Eli’s face. “I decide. Hear me? I decide.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How’d she make you lose face with your mama?”

  “She threw me out a second story window and injured my back.”

  “What’d your mama say?”

  Diamonds carved the contours of Eli’s face. In his features, hatred burned. “She called me a pussy.”

  “You responded by stabbing her to death.”

  “Mama’s always ripping on me.”

  He stopped near the dead man. “What about your brother? What’d he do?”

  Brother? Her breath stopped.

  “He tried to beat me for killing Mama. I warned him, Daddy. I warned him never to touch me again.”

  Blaze sighed. “How’re you going to clean up this mess?”

  Eli glanced between the table, the alcove, and her. “I’ll wait for Conrad. Kill him, then this one.”

  Blaze canted his head, studying Evie. “What’s your name?”

  “Evie Steele.”

  “Are your people looking for you? Don’t lie.”

  “I suspect so. They’ll overturn every rock until they do.”

  Blaze chewed on his inner cheek before addressing his son. “Keep your shenanigans to a minimum. We can’t take the chance of anyone finding her here.”

  Shenanigans?

  Panic like nothing she’d experienced before rose up to suffocate her. She tried to bring Deke’s image to mind, but fear was eating away at the edges of her sanity. This man was no savior and this place was no pit.

  Blaze Harwood was a frigging enabler, and he’d just given his psychotic son permission to make her his next torture victim.

  50

  Deke crouched down at the woodland’s edge and waited for the rest of his team to get into position. To his right, Keone adjusted his night vision goggles and Rae checked her weapon one more time. Wes and Reid were making their way around to the rear of the old barn while Britt and Matteo kept an eye on the perimeter.

  “All looks quiet back here,” Wes said into Deke’s earpiece.

  “Same here,” Matteo said.

  “Unit One going in.” He moved at a good clip across the hundred yards separating them and the barn. Keone on his six. Their movements were low and methodical. ARs at the ready. Rae remained at the tree line in case things went bad. The location allowed her to respond swiftly in any direction, if an emergency arose.

  The open field was far from ideal, leaving them vulnerable to attack on all sides. Dylan had seen no evidence of a security force during his imprisonment. In fact, Blaze Harwood seemed content to trust the safekeeping of his product to an alarm system, alone. A system that could probably be disabled with nothing more than a pair of wire clippers.

  Harwood was either ignorant of technology or frugal to the point of negligence.

  Left, front, right—he swept the area in a constant rhythm, keeping the forest’s edge, the barn, and the far away farmhouse constantly in his sights.

  The large sliding door, marking the front entrance of the barn, hung at a dangerous angle. Keone, stationed on the opposite side of the opening, nodded his readiness.

  He turned to slip inside.

  A scream pierced his eardrum, halting his action.

  His hand flew to his earpiece, intending to rip the thing out. He caught Wes’s cursing and froze, pressing it deeper into the canal, instead.

  “Report.” He glanced around the barn, spotting empty stalls, antique equipment, and clumps of rotting hay.

  Dogs barked in the distance.

  Shit.

  Reid said, “Wes got caught in a fucking bear trap.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “Unknown. At least a broken ankle.”

  “On my way,” Rae said.

  “Get Wes back to the vehicles and call for an ambulance, if necessary.”

  “Leave me be,” Wes said. “I can keep lookout.”

  “My order stands.” If Wes found one of the old-style bear traps, he’d be lucky to still have full use of his foot. “Unit Three, report.”<
br />
  Neither Britt or Matteo responded. “Unit Three, come in?”

  Silence.

  “Matteo?”

  Silence.

  “Britt.”

  “We’re here,” Matteo said, out of breath. “Had a come-to-Jesus moment with a pack of dogs. What do you need?”

  Angry canine snarls leapt through the engineer’s mic.

  “Stay sharp. Wes got caught in a bear trap. Where there’s one, there’re others.” Deke glanced over his shoulder as if he could see Matteo’s position. “Once you’ve made your sweep, send Britt to help Reid carry Wes to safety.”

  “I can take a shoulder, Commander,” Rae said.

  “Not for that long a distance.” For her height, Rae was incredibly strong, but she wouldn’t be able to support Wes’s weight all the way back to the vehicles.

  Once again, Keone signaled his readiness and Deke slipped beneath the awkward hanging barn door, careful of potential booby traps. With him in the lead, they cruised from stall to stall, searching for Evie, bracing for more of Harwood’s surprises.

  It didn’t take him long to give the all-clear signal. He and Keone stood in the middle of the barn, neither one willing to vacate the building.

  “Do you feel it?” he whispered.

  “The barn’s not empty.”

  “She’s here.”

  He scanned the upper level. Not much still existed of the loft floor. At some point over the past couple decades, the Harwoods had either reclaimed the wood for other projects or used it for kindling.

  If not up, then their search must go down.

  After pointing at the barn floor, he made a swirling motion with his hand. Keone nodded and set off to find an entrance. Deke cut off in the opposite direction. A lot of abandoned machinery cluttered the barn. They didn’t find an obvious door on their first sweep. The second time, they investigated every nook and cranny.

  Nothing.

  “Dammit.” He couldn’t shake the feeling that Evie was right under his nose. “We’re going to have to make some noise.”

  “Where do you want to start?” Keone asked.

  He peered to his right, where a large rusted wheelbarrow loaded with concrete blocks and fence posts resided. “This is as good as any.”

  After moving the wheelbarrow, they tested various sections of the floor.

  Still nothing.

  Matteo joined them, and they proceeded to look under every bit of machinery. When they came up empty-handed, he almost called a stop to the search. Why would Harwood have bear traps protecting this old barn, if nothing important were housed here? Made no sense.

  “Is there something different about this stall?” Keone asked.

  “Different how?”

  “Can’t put my finger on it.” Keone pointed toward the next stall. “Stand in front of that one, then this one.”

  He did as instructed. “I see what you’re talking about, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out what’s wrong.”

  “The depth is off,” Matteo said, his engineer mind identifying what they couldn’t. “The one in front of you has to be—” he stood by the partition separating them, studying one stall, then the other “—at least two feet shorter than this one.”

  Taking slow, careful steps, he entered the smaller stall. His boot slid over the floor, pressing down, here and there, searching for a hidden door. When nothing gave way, he paused near the back wall.

  Nothing appeared out of place, though he might be missing a nuance with his night vision goggles on.

  “See a latch or rope?” Matteo asked.

  He shook his head. His gaze made methodical passes over the entire wall.

  “Anything unusual?”

  “Maybe. Can’t say that I’ve studied many horse stalls before.”

  He splayed his hands over the wall and pushed. Nothing gave way. He moved to the left and tried again. Nada.

  A mental clock ticked in his head. Evie’d been under Eli’s power for almost two hours. Two hours with a murderer. If he didn’t find her soon, the odds of him ever finding her became almost nonexistent.

  Frustrated, he reared back and slammed his boot heel against the panels. The old planks splintered beneath the force, and his foot met air on the other side. When he jerked his leg back, the wall came with it.

  “Damn,” Matteo said. “Way to find a secret passage, Commander.”

  With their cover now blown for sure, his heart raced. Every second mattered. Every decision, life or death.

  If he took the ladder, Harwood could pick them off, one by one, as they descended. The only way to get the upper hand would be through surprise.

  Peering down the narrow opening, he gauged the distance from his location to the ground below to be about eight feet.

  He secured his AR and straddled the opening. Glancing between Keone and Matteo, he mouthed, “Ready?”

  Rather than drop straight down, he grasped the lip of the narrower side and used his body weight as momentum. Like a trapeze artist, he arched through the air and landed on the balls of his feet. The impact jarred every bone he possessed, from phalange to cranium.

  With his AR set against his shoulder again, he stayed low and ran toward a thick support beam. Not a lot of protection, but good in a pinch.

  In his three-sixty check, he realized several things at once. One—Evie and Harwood were nowhere in sight. Two—someone had spent a lot of time down here. Three—someone was rotting.

  A man slumped against the wall. He approached him carefully. Using his boot, he kicked the man’s foot. No response. He kicked it again. Nothing. Moving closer, he got a better look at the guy’s features.

  Caleb Harwood.

  Even with night vision goggles, he could see the vacant stare, the slack mouth, the unnatural angle of his neck.

  “Clear,” he whispered into his mic. “One dead body.”

  Seconds later, Keone and Matteo dropped into the cellar-like room.

  “Jesus,” Matteo said. “Something reeks down here.”

  Too new to SONR, Matteo hadn’t enough experience yet to recognize decomposing human flesh. Once an agent’s olfactories identified the scent, they never forgot it.

  If the stench didn’t tell the story, the sturdy wooden table with the iron restraints told him all he needed to know about Harwood and what went on down here.

  Dear God, had that maniac brought Evie into this pit of evil? She had to be frightened out of her mind. He sure as hell was.

  “Sonofabitch.” Matteo stumbled back from an alcove that held a large concrete-looking basin. Lined up before it, two piles of clothes. “Do you know what’s floating in there?”

  Deke stared at the yellow tee and capris stacked on top of a familiar pair of orange shoes.

  His vision blurred and his legs grew rubbery.

  No. No. Nooooo!

  Rage boiled in his gut. His thoughts scrambled in a thousand directions before they narrowed to one.

  Harwood did this. Harwood killed Evie. Harwood’s going to fucking die.

  “Found a tunnel.” Keone shoved aside a wall, pegged with hooks. The hooks held clothing, rope, and a sundry of other items.

  Hope sparked to life, dampening his fury. Evie might still be alive. He had to believe it. If he’d been uncertain of his feelings for her before now, he was no longer. He loved Evelyn Steele and he’d annihilate anyone who so much as breathed foul air her way.

  “Remind you of anything?” Keone asked.

  “The escape route from the Distributor’s storage building,” he said.

  “The Bamford raid,” Matteo added.

  He nodded, as all the dots of his trafficking case began to connect with Gracie Gilbert’s murder. All the bits of intelligence converging into one explosive resolution. With Evie—innocent Evie—caught in the middle. He peered into the endless tunnel, vowing the Distributor—Harwood—wouldn’t win this time.

  “Let’s finish this.”

  Evie held her restrained wrists close to her torso, hop
ing to retain as much body heat as possible. Her bra and panties were little protection against the tunnel’s damp chill.

  Would Deke recognize her clothes piled near the basin? Even if he didn’t, would he assume one of the bundles could be hers?

  When Blaze had caught a faint scrape on the floor above them, he’d ordered her to undress. As her trembling fingers had fumbled with the button of her capris, she’d been certain they were going to kill her and throw her in the basin of chemicals with Mrs. Harwood. Her only consolation had been that she wouldn’t have to endure hours of torture.

  How long had they been hiking through this underground path? It felt like hours, but more likely ten minutes. The rough-cut tunnel stood only five-and-a-half feet high and spanned a mere three-and-a-half feet wide.

  It must have taken the Harwoods years to construct this escape route. But why such an elaborate getaway from an abandoned barn? Had they once used the barn to house illegal contraband? Maybe they’d outgrown the structure and moved the operation to a larger facility.

  She did her best to keep her eyes on Blaze’s back and her mind off the confining nature of the tunnel. Every time her panic surfaced, she envisioned Deke. His rogue’s smile, his incredible abs, his caring nature. He kept her grounded when all she wanted to do was give in to her hysteria.

  Her bare foot caught on another hard object, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Crumbled dirt and small stones littered the tunnel, making it impossible for her to avoid. By the time she reached the end, her feet would be shredded.

  “Quiet,” Eli commanded from behind.

  All three of them stopped and canted their heads toward the direction they’d come. It took several seconds for her to key in on what had alerted Eli. A rhythmic swish of clothing against clothing echoing down the tunnel.

  “Cut the light, Daddy.”

  The light flashed out, and she could no longer see her bound hands. “Help me!” she shouted, hoping her voice carried to her rescuers.

  “Evie!” Deke shouted in the distance.

  Eli’s flashlight glanced off her cheek. Pain exploded in her head. Thank goodness his shot had been a blind one or he could have done some real damage.

  “If you make another sound, I’ll slice your throat and leave you to bleed out in front of your boyfriend.”