Cassidy

by Irish Winters

  The universe righted. His little girl was safe. There was still time.

  Jude stepped away from the grisly scene with his back straight and his eyes clear. He secured the safety switch on the gun and stuck it into his belt. Jude Cannon was back in the house, umm, silo.

  He jerked the door open without cowering. Not this time. Not anymore. Let Lucien come. Let them all come. Nothing could stop Jude now. Get the hell out of my way.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Easy now.” Cassidy helped Alex tip Tucker backward onto Melissa’s bed. Knowing they were bringing an injured man with them had energized Melissa. She’d prepared all the supplies needed to clean and re-bandage the stranger. The minute Cassidy and Alex stepped away, she moved in and went to work. The FBI agent groaned, but damned if the guy’s face didn’t light up with a smile while a real angel of mercy peeled the blood-soaked bandage off his chest. Priceless. Just damned priceless was what it was.

  But it had taken longer than expected to get Tucker to safety, and Cassidy was anxious to leave. She had somewhere else to be. Before she could voice her opinion, a timid voice behind her asked, “Sister Cassidy?”

  When Cassidy turned to face Jude’s daughter, she flung herself into Cassidy’s arms in a burst of tears. “You’re that woman in the root cellar. Agent Rourke says you’re here to help my dad.”

  Cassidy glanced over Judith’s head at Rourke, but he was busy assisting Melissa. “Your father’s my next target. Don’t worry. I’ll bring him back to you.”

  The poor little thing shuddered. “Please don’t let them hurt him. He’s not like them. They’re cruel and hard, but he’s... he’s...” She hiccupped. “He’s my dad.”

  Alex rested a hand on Judith’s shoulder. “No one’s going to get hurt. We’re here to help him.”

  “But he doesn’t know I’m safe yet, does he?” Judith’s chin quivered at that sad question. “He’s still out there looking for me. He’s in trouble; I know he is. And they’ll hurt him if they find him.”

  “Don’t you worry—Agent Dancer is right,” Alex assured her. “He’s the only one we’re looking for right now, and there are two of us. We’ll find him.”

  Cassidy looked to Alex. He sounded so sure of himself. He nodded toward the door, so she untangled herself from Judith’s embrace. “We need to go. You stay here and help Melissa, okay?”

  Gray eyes welled with tears and blinked back at her. “Okay,” Judith said sadly.

  “Rourke. Get everyone to safety as soon as you can.” Alex loosened his pistol from his thigh holster and set it on the nightstand. “Melissa, take this. Most of the cult members are at the blessing, but just in case.”

  His cell phone vibrated at this hip. “Stewart.” Alex listened and hung up without a word. “FBI has the name to match that female you found in the crypt. Veronica Schwartz; missing for—”

  “Saffron’s mother?” Judith gasped. “B-but the prophet said she couldn’t stay. He said she had to leave. He said—” She froze, her mouth still trying to form the words but with no sound. Suddenly she was back in Cassidy’s arms, crying, “He lied.”

  All Cassidy could do was hold her. Cain’s despicable crimes angered her all over again. There simply was no hole deep enough on earth to put him into. He needed to go back to hell where he belonged, and she wanted to be the one who sent him there.

  Rourke wrapped a sling around Tucker’s arm. “You think you can walk another few miles to our camp?”

  Tucker pushed up on one elbow, brushing Melissa’s last minute ministrations aside. “I’m a SEAL. What do you think?”

  “I think Rangers make squids look like sissies,” Rourke countered without batting an eye, “every last damned one of them.”

  Tucker’s boots hit the floor. He was once more sitting. Sweating. Gritting his teeth. But ramrod straight. “Try and keep up, girly boy.”

  Rourke growled at Alex. “We’ll be fine unless we’ve got to carry this guy.”

  Cassidy had to smile. Leave it to Rourke to know how to incentivize a Navy SEAL.

  “Get moving. You’re liable to get caught in a showdown if you’re still here when the FBI shows,” Alex warned as he glanced outside. “Melissa, will you be okay?”

  She nodded, her arms around Judith. Now for Jude.

  Rourke mustered his troops. Melissa and Judith supported Tucker under each arm, but he seemed able to travel. Rourke stalked out the door behind them, actively surveying their path to the wall, his rifle ready. He turned at the edge of the orchard and flashed a grin at Cassidy. Then a quick salute.

  Warmth flooded her chest. He might not have crossed that line between management and employee like she wished he had, but he’d always been there for her. Handsome. Big brotherly. She needed to hug him whether he liked it or not. Wait! she thought, wanting to tell him she cared before the moment got away from her. But she held her ground and said nothing. Did nothing.

  “You ready?” Alex interrupted.

  She pulled her gaze from the group blending into the fruit trees, the first of many refugees fleeing the cult if she had her way. Cassidy eyed her boss, not sure he’d go along with this next idea. “Sorry, but you can’t go out there looking like Special Forces.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  She stabbed her index finger at him, signaling him to stay where he was while she hurried to the community clothesline behind Melissa’s cabin and grabbed a pair of men’s pants and a shirt. It’d be nice not to be the only agent looking like a pioneer. Only Alex didn’t. Once changed, he achieved a debonair James Bond effect while Cassidy still looked like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. All she needed was Toto to make her ensemble complete.

  Alex didn’t seem to notice. He placed a quick call to the FBI to advise that their man was on his way out, for them to watch for him at The TEAM camp. He followed that up with the intel Cassidy had overheard on Cain’s ricin attack and about the weapons and explosives cache she’d found. Pocketing his cell, Alex opened Melissa’s door and nodded for Cassidy to lead.

  Her aggravation peaked. She dropped the brim of her bonnet, and growled back at him. “I can’t lead. You’re a man. That makes you superior to me, according to Cain’s commandments. I have to follow five steps behind you. We aren’t supposed to talk to each other, either.”

  He stepped out of the house and into view. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about Cain’s bullshit commandments. Lead, damn it.”

  “But Boss—”

  His chin lift dared her to argue.

  She huffed. “You’re going to get us into trouble.”

  “Trouble is why we’re here,” he quipped. “Did you forget who you work for?”

  Cassidy couldn’t help it. She smiled. Yeah, trouble was her middle name, and she intended to bring plenty of it to Lucien Cain before the day was done. “To the silo then?” she asked when they reached the open yard.

  “Where are they going?” Alex asked, his gaze on the few cult members scurrying past them on the dirt path led up the hill and into the trees south of the barn, a two-mile walk behind Cain’s home.

  “To the place of the blessing up in that grove of trees,” Cassidy answered, watching those people hurry with furtive glances over their shoulders. None of them seemed happy. “Jude will be there. Come on. Let’s go.”

  Alex followed, his head down and avoiding eye contact. Cassidy made sure the brim of her bonnet shielded her face. Neither spoke as they hurried—not that the other cult members chattered. The mood was somber and shadows were long. At last the place of the blessing came into view.

  Holy shit didn’t begin to describe it. The group of stragglers filtered into a large clearing where a four-cornered tent had been erected, its back wall tucked into the brush, a red carpet at the front entry and a torch beside the draped entrance. A deep red pennant with a full moon decorated the peak.

  Wooden benches faced the tent. A raised platform with a lectern stood to one side, a portable sound system at the other side. Standing torches c
ircled the clearing. Since the benches were already filled, the latecomers settled onto blankets they’d brought with them. Couples sat together, but peered toward the path, obviously watching for someone. Overall, there had to be around three hundred members in attendance, with maybe ten percent of them dressed in the garb of the Elite.

  Cassidy accompanied Alex to the edge of the clearing where they took up positions in the shadows, watching. Night fell. Her gut clenched tight when it became obvious why the anxious looks from the parents. She leaned into Alex. “The children aren’t here.”

  “Shit. Where would he be keeping them?”

  “I don’t know. The barn maybe? I hope.” She couldn’t bring herself to think the worst, that all those children weren’t coming. That they might already be dead.

  “I’ll contact the Bureau to step on it, to secure the kids first. Keep your head on a swivel.” Alex nudged her elbow, nodding toward the path they had just travelled.

  The crowd hushed as all eyes turned to the procession entering the clearing. Cain led, the hood of his black robe thrown back, the tips of his steepled fingers at his lips. His proud band of Elite marched under the same cover of darkness, their palms together as if in prayer, their hoods drawn over their heads.

  The Elite with Cain circled the assembly. They dropped out of rank by twos at each torch. Cassidy looked to Alex. He seemed to be staring across the gathering. Her eyes followed his gaze, but there were so many people. She couldn’t pick out a recognizable face in the crowd, not even Jude’s.

  The final Elite reached the tent entrance as Cain took the podium. Cassidy expected him to look a little frazzled or worried since his two favorite goons were missing, but he didn’t. With his chin tilted up, Cain looked serene. Pompous. Arrogant as hell.

  Her trigger finger itched. Let me wipe that self-righteous smirk off your face, you pig.

  Did he know where Greg and Hank were? Did he suspect that the FBI even now was breaching the walls of the cult? At least, that’s what they were supposed to be doing. They’d been awful damned quiet for an operation this size. Maybe that’s what Alex was looking for, some sign that he and she weren’t in this mess alone.

  Cain adjusted the long sleeves of his robe and faced his congregation. “Brothers and sisters, honored Elite, we are gathered on this momentous evening to pay homage to our mother the moon. Arise. Behold the light of the blessing.”

  The Elite extinguished the torches, and the audience climbed to their feet. The muted moonlight turned everything the color of pewter as the white globe in the east inched over the horizon. Cassidy shivered at the knowledge of all those guns in the hands of these black-robed bullies. Did these foolish followers have any clue how much danger they were in? God, they looked stupid.

  Alex stiffened even as her own sixth sense pinged on alert in the darkness. He’d sensed trouble, too. She pulled her pistol and let the egg basket drop. Now wasn’t the time for Dorothy from Kansas. She needed to be Butch Cassidy. Brave. Daring. Damned sure of herself.

  Cain stretched forth both arms. “Earlier today, I chose Sister Charlotte to prepare my bride. Fortunately, Sister Chloe is a pure and trusting lamb. To honor me, she decided to embrace the blessing early. She’s been here with Sister Charlotte for hours preparing to be my most worthy companion. See how the mighty hand of God works his wonders to perform?” His tone had risen to a fervent pitch by the time he’d finished.

  “The mighty hand of God,” his followers chanted.

  Guess again, dumbass. Judith is on her way out of this nightmare. “I have to get inside that tent,” Cassidy whispered to Alex.

  “Agreed. Stay in touch.” He tapped his hidden Bluetooth earpiece.

  “Copy that.” Cassidy stepped away. The moon’s light enhanced the clearing, but it offered enough of what Cassidy needed. Shadows. She took several more quick steps to the rear of the tent. Please let there be a flap. There was. As quietly as possible, she racked her pistol and eased within the darkness.

  Someone in a black robe spun to face her. Had to be Cain’s buddy, Sister Charlotte. The older woman looked up for one surprised moment, her palms opened wide and foolishly believing that Cassidy had come to help. “The prophet’s betrothed never came,” she whispered. “How can I tell him there will be no wedding?”

  “Simple. You don’t,” Cassidy whispered and—BAM! She let Sister Charlotte have it with the butt of her pistol right between her lying eyes. Down the woman went. With bizarre delight, Cassidy laid her first Elite trophy on the wooden bench meant for Judith. At first she thought it was simply a bed without a mattress, but most box springs didn’t come with handcuffs at all four corners. Within seconds, Sister Charlotte was spread-eagled, gagged and cuffed.

  Cassidy took stock of the dimly lighted tent. A white robe hung off a post in the center, no doubt also for Judith. The moment Cassidy fingered the silky material it slipped to the floor. What have we here?

  The post seemed oddly placed. She’d thought it held the center of the tent up, but no. It didn’t reach high enough. Cassidy ran her fingers up the post’s smooth surface, then jerked her hand back. Shit. The last time she’d seen a device like this was deep inside a South American prison. She’d been part of the team sent by Alex to rescue three American priests. Holes had been drilled through the post at twelve-inch intervals. The holes were meant for a steel dowel, but no position of that dowel was meant for good. Not higher. Not lower.

  It turned the post into a crucifix of sorts, where a person could be hung, stripped, flogged, or raped. Sure enough, the missing dowel hung like an ordinary tent peg off the back of a nearby wooden chair. No one could understand how evil this simple contraption was unless they’d seen it in action.

  Her heart pounded, a racehorse come to life in her chest. Those priests had all been brutalized, but Father Damien, the youngest, had amazed her. The poor man had lifted his right hand, and blessed her with the sign of the cross. He’d whispered, “His peace I give to you. Go now. Before they return.”

  Cassidy sucked in a deep breath through her nostrils at the memory of that stinking cell. Father Damien had no way to know that the bastard rebels who’d tortured him couldn’t return. They’d been reduced to ash and blood at the combined hands of the state militia and The TEAM.

  Cain was just as depraved. How many young girls had he robbed of their innocence in this place of so-called blessings? How many women? Or young boys?

  She wrapped herself in the silken robe. There would be no innocent little girl bride for Lucien Cain tonight. Only hell and vengeance in the guise of one pissed-off Butch Cassidy Dancer.

  Chapter Twenty

  I stink. Jude kept his head low inside the hooded robe he’d removed from Brother Victor. Thankful for the dark that hid the bloody bullet holes, he wished for a gasmask. One thing was certain—Brother Victor hadn’t spent much time with soap during his life. The robe reeked of sweat and body odor, but it kept everyone at a healthy distance. His eyes watered while he studied the crowd gathered in the clearing. Anymore he detested these cult members. There were all as guilty as Lucien Cain. He just wished he had his glasses , so he could see them better.

  Cassidy’s friend, Melissa, had told the prophet that Judith would be there, but was she really? Jude didn’t think so, but Cain seemed certain. Fear that he’d come too late propelled Jude through the shadows. Cain kept rambling, but when a gentle moan came from within the tent, Jude’s heart sank. He cast caution aside. With a quick flick of his wrist, he took his gun off safety and parted the back flap, prepared to take on Sister Charlotte. He didn’t have much of a plan after that, other than to grab his daughter and start shooting if he needed to.

  “Not so fast,” a woman growled very quietly. “One more step and I’ll end you.”

  Jude stopped cold. A circle of steel pressed hard and deadly into his forehead. His arrival had been anticipated. He thrust his own pistol forward, just as determined. “You first.”

  “Don’t think I won’t kill you, ass
hole.”

  He cocked his head. The audacity in that voice. Could it be? “Cassidy?”

  “Jude?” She pulled her hood off at the same time that he lowered his. As dark as it was, it was still possible to make out her blond hair. She took firm hold of his wrists. “It’s me. I’m in the bride’s robe. Judith is safe. We got her out of the cult. Tucker Chase, too.”

  His brain couldn’t process what he thought he’d just heard fast enough. “You’ve got my daughter? And Tucker? You’ve got them both? Judith’s safe?”

  Cassidy’s head bobbed as she confirmed again. “Of course. I told you I’d be back.”

  The weight of the world lifted at that very confidently spoken promise made and now fulfilled. He set his gun to safety, stuck it back in his belt, and pulled her into his arms, his hands searching over her face in the dark. Feeling his way to her smiling lips, he crushed his mouth to hers. “I knew you’d come.”

  She allowed one split second of pure bliss before she pushed away. “We’re not out of this yet.”

  It might have been the endorphins released by his body at the knowledge of his daughter’s safety, but Jude wasn’t worried. He felt unstoppable. With Cassidy at his side, he could take on the world—and win by hell. He pulled her back again.

  “Down boy,” came her terse reply. “Cain will shut up pretty soon and he’ll be in here.”

  He ran his fingers over her head, feeling for the golden locks of his warrior goddess.

  “Jude,” she murmured hoarsely. “We don’t have time for this. You’ve got to help me bring this son-of-a-bitch down. Tonight we end Lucien Cain.”

  Reality got through to him. He stepped away. “Where’s Sister Charlotte?”

  “Over there. On the workbench. Old broad didn’t know what hit her. Watch out for the post in the middle of the tent though. It’s not a nice piece of equipment. Don’t touch it. It’s got to be full of evidence.”

  Jude grinned. Leave it to Cassidy to make his troubles disappear. Judith was safe, and everything else he’d ever wanted in life stood just inches away. He stilled his wayward hand even as it reached for Cassidy of its own accord. Gosh, he wanted to hug her in the worst way. Kiss her. Make crazy, passionate love to her.