by India Kells
“I can’t reach anybody at Purgatory. And now, I don’t have a signal.”
“It’s part of the alarm. None of our phones will work from now on. Yours included.”
Owen frowned. “How will Beatrice let everybody know that Purgatory is up and running again, that it’s safe for everybody to come out?”
“A phone number, every agent knows it. You call it regularly from a secured line and listen to a recorded message. Archaic, but that’s the only way.”
Lance still stared at his phone. “There is no way we can reach anybody?”
Dylan pondered on that. “Unless you know someone having direct contact with the agents, no.”
Owen turned to Lance. “Try calling Wes instead of Mac. And if you reach him, tell him that since the situation has turned sour, we’ll regroup.”
Lance nodded at his request. Dylan frowned. “Where? You Sorenson have a personal hideaway?”
“You’ll see.”
“Owen, I think it would be safer for me if I went—”
“No, don’t start again. We have a lead on our creep, and I’m not letting you do this alone. We have a secure location. We regroup and think about our next step.”
“At one of mine?”
Owen shook his head. “How sure are we that the creep doesn’t already know where your hideouts are? He found you before, that may not be a coincidence. And until we can talk to Beatrice about the shut down, I suggest we do the unexpected, and go where the creep won’t be able to find you.”
“You’re suggesting one of your secured locations?”
Owen looked at his brother. “Yeah, our best. How do you feel about meeting my mother?”
Dylan waited a second before realizing that he was serious. “You’re joking, right? No way am I bringing unknown danger to your mother’s doorstep.”
Lance smiled. “It is a big enough place for all of us, and safe. I installed the security system myself. And our mother is unlisted and invisible. Making it even more difficult for anybody to find. It’s as if she’s dead. One of Wes’s brilliant ideas. Even if someone has dug into the background of Wes, Owen, or I, nothing could link us to her.”
He had a point. “And where is she living now?”
“Pembroke, a one-hour drive from Dallas.”
Automatically, her eyes went to Owen, but nothing showed on his face. Well, how nice. A secured location at a perfect distance from their next target. How convenient.
“The only hurdle is transportation. From Seattle to Dallas, it’s a thirty-two-hour drive and this time, I doubt Beatrice will lend us her plane. And out of the question to log our names into the flight registry, too easy to access.” Lance raked his silver blond hair in frustration. “I could check if some of my contacts would be able to help us. But I don’t know how long it would take.”
Dylan had stayed silent until now. Rarely would she use an ace in her sleeve, as she usually could get out of trouble on her own, but it seemed that desperate times called for crazy mad measures.
“How comfortable are you of flying in small planes?”
At her question, both men turned to her. Lance shrugged. “We’re SEALs. If it has wings, we can fly it.”
Dylan shook her head. “No, I mean being flown in a small plane with someone else at the stick?”
“Are you planning to flying us to Dallas?”
Dylan shook her head. “Nope, not my cup of tea, but I can reach out to someone who can. And I know for a fact that we won’t get the plane alone, the pilot comes with us.”
Owen frowned. “And you can trust this pilot of yours?”
“I trust the pilot with my life, what I don’t know is my exact time of death.” She picked up her phone and grinned, mischief in her eyes. “Gentlemen, for what you’re about to go through, I admire your courage. May God have mercy on your souls.”
Chapter 22
“No way am I getting inside that thing! It’s not a plane, it’s insanity with wings.”
Dylan looked at Lance from the corner of her eyes and noticed his golden tan turning into a sickly green.
“Are you scared, Sorenson? You, a mighty SEAL, the best warrior that ever graced the face of the earth.”
Owen joined them and did a once over of the WWII bomber gleaming on the isolated tarmac. “It looks in good condition, for an old plane.”
The bearded SEAL didn’t seem as unsure as his brother—maybe he was closer to resignation.
“Guys, I have no intention of dying right now, and it’s our best bet to fly under the radar. The plane is used for a period drama filmed nearby, and it’s already registered to fly around. A small flight plan modification and we’re good to go.”
Lance sighed. “Bro, want to try flying a collection piece over the country?”
“Nobody flies my plane but me, sugar, not even with your sweet ass on the pilot’s seat.”
Dylan couldn’t help but laugh at the familiar female voice. When she turned around and saw her old friend, her blonde curls tangling in the wind and mischievous green eyes, it seemed that part of the heaviness weighing on her heart lifted.
“Mercy!” She let herself be squeezed by her friend, the only one until Owen that could touch her without twisting herself inside out.
“My Dylan! Oh, it’s been too long.”
Even though she knew time was of the essence, Dylan returned the hug in earnest. When she looked up at her friend again, she had trouble swallowing the lump of emotion and gratitude, her eyes dangerously moist.
“Yeah, too long.”
“So, I’m supposed to apologize for being out of touch for so long, and you’re the one bringing me gifts? How sweet of you!”
Dylan shook her head. For as long as she could remember, Mercy always took great pleasure in being outrageous.
“May I present you Lance and Owen Sorenson. They’re helping me out. Be nice.”
“I’m always nice. Especially with very handsome gentlemen.”
Her eyes detailed them both, and Dylan swore she saw Lance squirm a little. Mercy extended her hand and shook his with a sly smile.
“Welcome to my world, I’ll be your chauffeur for today. You look uncomfortable, Lance Sorenson. Never taken a plane before?”
Lance scoffed. “I probably have more flight hours that you do, honey.”
“Honey, hey? Please don’t tell me that you’re the kind of man who thinks a woman shouldn’t be in command.”
“I work as a consultant for an agency run by a woman. I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”
“Sugar, if it has an engine, I can drive or fly it. I’m quite capable with a stick.”
Lance gaped at her as she turned to Owen. Her eyes turned from amused to interested, and the wave of unease that squeezed her heart took Dylan by surprise, even if Owen’s face remained perfectly impassible.
“Don’t mind my brother. We’re very grateful for your help, ma’am.”
“Oh, please call me Mercy. It’s easy to remember, it’s what men say to me as they beg me to be done with them.”
Owen’s mouth quivered. “I’ll be sure to remember that. Mercy.”
Dylan ground her teeth at the amusement she could clearly see on his face. Damn, it will be difficult to rein herself in, and cut that stupid attachment for him. She was a logical woman; it shouldn’t be so difficult to do.
“If you’re ready, we can leave now. This baby must be back and ready for a shoot tomorrow.”
Mercy was all business when she turned to Dylan. “I’ve contacted a private landing strip two hours north of Dallas. He has agreed to keep it quiet, but it will cost you."
“No problem, forward me his bank account and how much money he asked for. I’ll wire the funds immediately. And yours as well.”
Mercy shook her head. “No need for money, girlfriend. What you’re asking from me is fun. And you know I would do anything for you.”
The painful fist of jealousy loosened inside of her.
“I know, Me
rcy. Thank you. But you know money is of no consequence to me.”
The blonde bombshell laughed. “Yeah, especially as it’s not yours! I’ll go prepare for take off. I know you’re not too keen on flying, so I won’t ask you to sit in the co-pilot seat.” And with a conspiratorial smile, she leaned closer and murmured, “Go sit in the back with your bearded Viking. I’ll entertain the annoying, very cute brother, in the front.”
At her quizzical look, Mercy smiled. “Do you really think I would poach on my best friend? And let me remind you that you’re very bad at concealing anything from me.”
Before she could deny it, Mercy winked and gave her a yeah right look, then hooked her arm through Lance’s, dragging him off.
Dylan sighed, undecided if she was more annoyed by her friend’s behavior or by the fact that Mercy could read her so easily. She had a thing or two to learn about not being so transparent.
As she grabbed her bag on the ground, Owen watched Mercy babble Lance’s ear off.
“Your friend is interesting. Like a tornado on caffeine.”
Dylan nodded. “Yeah, always been so.”
“How did you meet her?”
“We were in the same foster home. The last one I was in before I enrolled in the police academy. We hit it off. I’ve always been more on the quiet side, but it was impossible to be completely quiet or shy around Mercy. I thought she would follow me to the academy, but she took a detour.”
“A detour?”
“Yeah, a boyfriend of hers was an aspiring stuntman in a movie. He gloated that he could perform that completely crazy thing with a car, not certain what it was. He brought Mercy on set to impress her, but chickened out and the producer was out of his mind. Mercy stepped in and did the stunt. That was the beginning of her career.”
“Your friend is a stuntman?”
“Stuntwoman. Preferable to use that term around her. She’s very proud of her accomplishments, she worked hard for them. And is quite successful.”
“I don’t see her as anything but successful. Her attitude would never allow for anything less.”
Dylan nodded. “She’s an exceptional woman. Unique. The very best.”
And she believed every word she said. Mercy had a kind of fire that could blaze a path to wherever she wanted to go. Nobody could deny her anything, not even her friendship, and for that Dylan would be forever grateful.
“When I was in the hospital, recovering from my injuries, Mercy was the only one who stayed with me. I guess too many cops on my squad didn’t know how to react around me. Mercy didn’t change. She remained … Mercy. Stubborn, direct, and also a true support. I heard it later from a former colleague, but when she noticed that nobody came to visit me, she barged into the precinct to berate my captain. And she yelled so loudly that everybody could hear her through the walls. On her way out, she came by Henry’s desk and punched him square on the nose. The poor guy didn’t see it coming …”
“Henry?”
She’d been so lost in her memories, she blurted a name she shouldn’t have.
“Henry was a colleague, and my fiancé, before the attack.”
Owen stopped. “Please don’t tell me this is the guy with the gag reflex.”
“Please, don’t judge him too harshly. It was a difficult time for all of us. It changed me. Us. We tried to find our way back to each other, but we failed.”
“He should have stayed by your side.” His voice was strained, containing fury.
“Owen, Henry was a clerk at the precinct. A sweet, gentle man, unaccustomed to violence. He didn’t know how to deal with me. How to deal with what became of my body.”
“They’re only scars. They aren’t you!”
Dylan shook her head. “You say that because your life experience made you see beyond what’s skin deep. And I’m forever grateful for that. Henry and I were emotionally involved, everything collapsed. He couldn’t cope.”
“What do you mean? That I’m not emotionally involved with you? We’re partners, for God’s sake. Lovers.”
“Yes, but Henry loved me. He loved me enough to marry me. It’s different. You have the ability to withdraw, to ignore what has become of me.”
“Withdraw? You’re referring to what happened to me at the brothel, aren’t you? The way I could detach myself to go through with it. You sincerely think that it’s what I did when I was with you? That I considered you as one of my clients, distancing myself from your scars so I could be hard enough to fuck you?” He was clearly astonished, veering to angry.
“What’s going on?”
Dylan swallowed, for the first time hearing the engine running and Mercy about six feet away.
Ignoring Mercy, and Lance probably not far behind, Owen took a step at her—she could feel his breath on her face, his body heat spiking her own, and his eyes were a fiery blue. When he spoke, his voice was low and furious.
“I didn’t fuck you. I would never fuck you. When I see you, I don’t see scars, I see a woman, the only woman I’ve ever wanted to have for a long time. I wanted to feel alive when I buried myself inside of you, and fly with you when you came apart in my arms. The only scars you have, Dylan, are in your head. Exactly like mine. But maybe my wish was a mistake, maybe opening up to you had been my mistake.”
And then he turned around and grabbed his bag, Lance on his heels.
Her brain couldn’t process any of his words. She didn’t know what to think or how to react. Her logical mind whipped her back to the present, her eyes focusing on Mercy now standing before her, concern written all over her face.
“Are you okay? What was that all about? What did he say to you?”
Taking one deep breath, her whirling mind steadied enough to give some sort of answer. “To all of your questions, my only answer is I don’t know.”
“Well, that I don’t know upset you good. I’m not sure I like those brothers anymore. One word from you, girlfriend, and I’ll make sure that bastard loses his lunch after take off.”
Dylan shook head, amusement creeping in despite the emotions churning in her gut. “Tempting, but he’s a Navy SEAL. That means I’ll lose mine way before he loses his.”
Mercy’s smile turned devilish. “Good, make sure you aim right.”
Chapter 23
Dust billowed as the pick-up truck passed, making shimmering patterns in the sunlight. Sitting in the back, Dylan lost herself in contemplation. Right now, there was nothing she could do, about anything. The meeting between Amaryllis and Owen was planned for tonight. Owen was not even looking at her, let alone talking to her. The long flight had been eventless and silent, apart from the roar of the engine and the occasional commands from Mercy.
From the moment they took off until they landed, Dylan could only think about what Owen had said. He had been right, she had comfortably kept her scars in front of her, as a shield. And as they protected her, they also blinded her; not only from Owen, but from herself.
When he told her that he wished for her, it burned a painful path through her heart. At that very instant, Dylan realized she had wished for him, too. Her eyes were steady on the landscape disappearing in the rear window as Owen drove the truck—Lance in the passenger seat—while tears blurred the lines, and for the first time in a very long time, she didn’t know what to do. Worse, she didn’t know what she wanted. At the core of it, she wanted Owen, that was the easy part. But from the moment when she was abducted and tortured, she never thought about the future, or anything that demanded for her to think of the long term. Maybe apart from Purgatory. But again, she had put a good distance between them, and didn’t know any of the agents personally. Not until now.
The truck turned into a small country road, and Dylan realized that there were fewer houses around. Farms dotted the land in between lush trees. Before she could ask where they were, the truck turned again on a private lane. And a few yards away, a beautiful farmhouse—with white shingles with blue shutters and artfully placed flower beds—appeared. They had arrived at
Mrs. Sorenson’s house. Without a word, Owen got out of the truck and slammed the door shut with more force than necessary. Lance turned to her. “What happened between the two of you? I’ve never seen Owen so pissed off in my life. And you look as if your cat died.”
He’s not far off, Dylan thought. “I assumed things and insulted him. That’s what happened.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t pull the Owen act on me.”
“The Owen act?”
“Yeah, telling me everything is fine when the world is about to be destroyed by aliens. What’s going on?”
