Lycos (Guardian Security Shadow World Book 3)

by Kris Michaels

  The snow accumulated, wet and heavy on the branches of trees. As the temperature dropped, small branches would break. He used those same branches to pull himself up the nearly straight climb to the top of the ravine. Darkness was falling now, and that, too, would aid his approach to the safe house.

  He pushed himself over the ridge top and froze, listening to the sounds of the forest. The slam of a door drew his attention toward the safe house. A generator kicked in and he smiled. Another buffer between him and detection. The solar panels hadn't been cleaned since Bethanie and Ethan had moved in with him. The power stored in the batteries wouldn't have lasted long. He kneed up and rose up behind a tree before he ghosted forward, being cautious where he planted his feet.

  At three hundred feet, he could see through the window into the kitchen. He could see movement, but the snow was coming down hard, and it wasn't clear who was moving. He worked closer to the safe house, being careful to stay out of the line of vision from the windows on his side of the house.

  The tree in front of him would be where he split to the back of the house. He leaned against the tree behind his mark and took a breath, steadying his heartbeat. He flattened and low crawled, out of sight from the windows, to the next tree. The rope over his chest scooped up snow and piled it at his neck as he pushed forward. His rifle strap twisted, tightening the weapon to his back. He lifted cautiously and peeked around the tree.

  Movement in the kitchen. Two men. Dammit, both appeared to be moving well enough, no impediments or injuries that would hold them back, unless...

  The trip to the back of the cabin took too fucking long, but he couldn't risk alerting the motherfuckers to his presence. He carefully worked his way up to the back of the safe house. He halted in an uncomfortable crouch against the outside of the home and then slid up the side, making sure his equipment didn't touch the building. Noise would alert the men inside the structure.

  Heavy encompassing snow fell, and the wind, which had been dormant, was now driving the flakes sideways—just Mother Nature settling in for a blizzard of epic proportions. That was okay with him. He knew this mountain. The men in the safe house didn't.

  He lifted to peek just over the window ledge. There, a man on the bed. Yeah, Dog did some serious damage. The light from the hall illuminated the bed and the man. The blood that had seeped through the sheet covering the man meant they'd decided not to put a tourniquet on the injury, or Dog's damage was up higher on the shoulder/neck area, and they couldn't stop the bleeding.

  Lycos dipped and moved to the other side of the window and tried to catch a glimpse of Ethan through the interior door. He could just make out the door to the other room. It was open, and there was no light on. Where the fuck was Ethan? Front room? He didn't see the boy in the kitchen with the other men. Where would they have put Ethan? He circled to the front of the cabin. At the corner, he stopped and counted stacked logs. At the fifth log, he let his fingers travel over the wood until he found the seam. He pushed in hard and flinched at the loud click.

  Out of instinct he froze and listened. Nothing. He released the pressure and felt the door eject and open to the outside. He'd installed the gun port when he lived in the house, never imaging the future use he would put it to. He was making an assumption the men were still in the kitchen as there were no lights on in the front room. He squatted down and faced the cabin before he slowly allowed the door to open. Six inches by six inches, the square pulled out and then swung out further on a spring that would allow him to shut it from the inside. He controlled the movement.

  “He's a fucking dead man, his body just doesn't know it yet.” A Boston accent. Southie if Ryan had to guess.

  “He's still breathing. Besides, have you looked outside? We could be here for a while. Which sucks because we are supposed to meet up with Walker and Martin. They are out there somewhere.” That guy sounded midwestern, and his voice was close. Ryan pushed the chink back, closing all but the slightest opening. He held his ear close and listened.

  “I'm not complaining about being stuck here. We have some food and its warm. That wolf tore the fuck out of Max's neck. I don't know how he stabbed it.” Southie's voice was louder as if he'd moved into the front room, too.

  “Yeah, but what do we do about the kid? The little fucker was fast.” Midwest's voice sounded frustrated.

  “He's as good as dead. We'll go back to the place we found him and look for the woman. She's our payday anyway.”

  “We should have hunted her down when we were there.” Midwest swore and said something Ryan didn't catch.

  “We had the kid to deal with, and who the fuck knew how bad Max was? Besides, with this weather we wouldn't be able to see our hand in front of our face.”

  “Bosses are going to want an update.”

  “Sucks to be them. I'm not reporting in until we have something. Let them freak on the other teams.”

  “That's a good way to get dead.”

  “What are they going to do? Come up the mountain, find us, and kill us? I don't think so. They have ten teams out here in bumfuck nowhere, and I can fucking guarantee all ten of us are snowed the fuck in.”

  “Then we call in and tell them we are snowed in. They get their report, and we get to live.”

  “Fine, but we ain't mentioning that kid. If we do, they'll send everyone up to this particular mountain, and we'll have to share any money we get from catching that woman.” Southie coughed a bit after he spoke.

  “Agreed, besides we are going to have to deal with the fucker who was driving the truck. Can't imagine he'll stay off the mountain long. If I had a piece of ass like that woman, I'd be back banging her.”

  “He's nothing. We get that woman; we'll have some fun with her before we slit her throat, if you get my drift. The least we should get after freezing our balls off up here. Want some more coffee?”

  “Hell, yes. It’s drafty as fuck in this place.”

  “I'll report in. Then we need to contact Walker and Martin. I'm going to tell them we searched the mountain and it was clear.”

  “Yeah, tell 'em we are waiting out the storm, but the whole mountain is clear. We're golden then.” Southie agreed.

  “I could use a vacation.”

  “Me too. He dead yet?” Southie's voice softened a bit.

  “Nope, still breathing.”

  “Fuck, it’s going to be a long night.”

  “Nah, he'll die quietly.” Midwest's voice was barely audible as they moved toward the kitchen.

  Ryan pushed the wood back in place and scanned the darkened forest around him. Was Ethan still in the house? Was he tied up? Unconscious? Dead? He saw the vehicle they'd arrived in. An SUV. Fuck, they wouldn't leave him in the vehicle, would they?

  He moved to the far side of the truck and approached, using the truck to shield him from view. He lifted from his crouch and searched the interior. Nothing.

  Ryan sprinted across the clearing to the back shed. He opened the door and flipped three switches, killing the generator. Darkness and silence shrouded the house. He slipped behind the door and slid along the wall, closing it and leaving himself inside the structure. He eased his rifle and rope off and set them in the corner of the shack before he reached down and drew the knife out of his scabbard. He flattened against the wall and waited.

  Indistinct voices sounded inside the house. A slam of the kitchen door and muffled curses preceded the shine of a flashlight. The door slammed open, and a lumbering figure moved into the shed. The flashlight focused on the generator.

  Ryan moved. His free hand grabbed a handful of the man's hair. He slammed the man forward, and his face bounced off the generator a fraction of a second before he snapped the man's head back and placed the razor-sharp edge of his knife against the fucker's throat. The big guy's legs were rubber, and he staggered a bit before his brain caught up with the life or death situation going on. At that point, he froze and seemed to stopped breathing. Smart man.

  “Where is my boy?”

 
; “I don't know what you're talking about.” Southie's denial earned him a slight twist of Ryan's knife. The man's body spasmed as he tried to back away from the blade. Ryan held the point tight against his throat and patted him down with his free hand. He removed an automatic from a holster at the man's waist. He tightened his hold on the man after he secured the weapon in his own web belt.

  “My boy?”

  “He's in the cabin.”

  “Which room?” Ryan pushed the knife closer, blood oozed over the blade. He knew it because he could feel it on the hand holding the bastard against his chest.

  “Back bedroom.”

  “You're lying. Do you have a death wish?”

  “You think you're going to kill me no matter what? Right?” Southie laughed. A strange reaction to his imminent demise. The man couldn't move, or he'd be decapitated by the blade against his neck. “Who the fuck thought I'd buy it in the middle of fucking nowhere?” The guy laughed again.

  “Who sent you here?”

  “Fuck you.” Spittle flew from Southie's mouth.

  “No, fuck you,” Ryan growled and flicked his wrist. The man flinched. “I can make you suffer, or I can send you off quickly. Why are you after the woman?”

  Southie's teeth clenched, and he snarled and then choked when the blade sliced a bit farther. “They want her dead.”

  “Stratus?”

  The man grunted. “Dude, you're thinking small time. Think bigger. You're in way over your head. Let me go and get out of here. You don't know the wrath that will come down on you if you fuck up their plans.”

  “Why are they after her?”

  “How the fuck would I know, man?” Ryan tweaked the knife again. “Okay… okay. Most of the time we erase people who have seen too much, ya know. We work in the shadows.”

  “Really?” An evil laugh rolled out of him. “Let me introduce myself, I am a Shadow. I am the darkness. I am a Guardian, and you are a boil on the ass of humanity, not worth my time or effort, but what sealed your fate is that you went after my family.”

  The man deflated in his grasp. “The kid got away, man. Headed into the woods. We tried to track him, but he was too fast. Professional courtesy, man, make the end quick, I've never made them suffer.”

  “And yet you suggested raping my woman before you killed her.” Ryan pulled the knife across the man's throat. Deep enough to kill him, shallow enough to make sure the man had time to contemplate his regrets. The man dropped to his knees; his hands wrapped around his neck.

  Ryan walked around him, picked up his coil of rope and rifle. He walked out of the shed and pulled the door shut behind him. He strode straight to the back door and walked into the safe house.

  “Yo, Rich, what happened to the...”

  The gun bucked in Ryan's hand. The darkened figure of Midwest dropped in the doorway, falling backward into the living room. He made his way into the bedroom and did a quick assessment of the bastard Dog took out. Southie was right. The man was on his way out. Ryan had no desire to expedite the journey. Let the fucker suffer. He spun and left the bastard to to die of his wounds.

  On the way out he patted down Midwest and grabbed the man's cell phone, the key ring from his pants, and the handgun that never cleared leather.

  He hit the door at a run. Ethan had been out in this weather for almost three hours. Ethan was a quick study, and he was smart, plus he had the basics of survival down, but he was scared and alone. Fuck, what he wouldn't give for Dog's tracking ability. Ryan ran to the road that skirted the area where he’d left Bethanie. It was hard to be sure of his location with the snow coming down and the darkness that surrounded him. “Bethanie!”

  “Here!” He heard her from around the curve in the road.

  “Come this way.” He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Ethan!”

  “Ryan, what's happening?” He could barely see her running toward him, her dark form a small moving object against the backdrop of snow falling on the shadow of the mountain.

  He cupped his hands to his mouth again and yelled, “Ethan!”

  As Bethanie got closer, he yelled to her, “Ethan escaped. He's running away, and he's got about two and a half hours on us.”

  “Where would he go?” She spun around her arms outstretched. “Where do we start?”

  “He'd head toward safety. He'd head home, but he wouldn't try to scale the face of the mountain.” That was the way they’d come down.

  “That way?” Bethanie pointed to the long, slow slope that rounded the face of the mountain and would eventually lead to the cavern. Shit, in the dark and snow, the treacherous chutes that littered the way up would be impossible to see.

  “Yeah. Let's go.” He headed out with her on his heels. “Did you hit that alarm?”

  “No, you were only gone an hour.”

  “Good. You stay on my six. We have to move fast.” They didn't need every police agency in the tri-state area swarming the mountain. Not with two dead bodies and one corpse wannabe at the safe house.

  “Are they coming after us?”

  “No.”

  “I heard a gunshot. Did you kill them?” Her voice wavered a bit.

  “Two of them. The third, Dog took care of.”

  He wasn't about to deny he'd taken those bastards out. They were paid killers, and they put the people he loved at risk. He suddenly got why Moriah went off script. The moralistic high ground he had previously perched his ass on was impossible to reach from where he currently stood.

  Ryan put one foot in front of the other. He moved with purpose and intent, but he heard the echo of Bethanie's silence. He stopped to let her catch up and cupped his mouth again, calling out to Ethan. Bethanie made it to him. “Call for him.”

  If the boy was terrified, he might not recognize Ryan's voice, but he'd recognize his mom's.

  “Ethan!” Bethanie shouted his name. The wind howled around them and snow hit his face. A small sound in the distance. Was it his imagination?

  “Again.” He pointed to where he thought the sound came from.

  “Ethan!” Bethanie screamed her son's name.

  “There. Keep calling!”

  Ryan shook his head as he traveled toward where he thought he'd heard the sound. Bethanie called again. He stopped and held up his hand. She fell silent.

  “Again. Only once and then we need to listen.”

  “Ethan!”

  “Momma!”

  “It's him!” Bethanie turned and shouted. “We're coming! Ethan, we're coming! Keep yelling, baby!”

  Granite outcroppings tripped them as they scrambled in the direction of Ethan’s voice. Ryan stopped and barred Bethanie from going further. There was a sheer wall in front of them. There would have been no way for Ethan to climb that surface. Ryan swept the area, looking for... no. Fuck, no.

  “What? Why are you stopping?”

  He lifted a hand “Ethan?”

  “Down here!”

  Ryan dropped to his knees, pushing snow away from a small hole. “Buddy, are you okay?”

  “I hurt my leg. They killed Dog!”

  “He was alive when we left him, Bud.” Ryan took his rifle off his shoulder and removed his coil of rope.

  “He was?” The small voice traveled up.

  “Talk to him, Bethanie.” Ryan needed to work and work fast.

  “Yeah, baby. He's in the cave; Ryan brought him home.”

  “I'm sorry, Mom. I just wanted to wait for Ryan.”

  “I know. I know. We aren't going to talk about that now. How did you hurt your leg?”

  “When I fell down the hole, I think I scratched it bad. I wrapped up in the blanket like Ryan told me.”

  “Yeah, did you? Good job. Have you eaten anything?”

  “I was saving the bars till I got really hungry. I don't have anything to make a fire with down here. It’s all rocks.”

  Ryan sprinted to a solid looking pine tree and anchored his rope around the bottom. He fixed a quick rig and moved back over to the hole. T
he edge of the chute was sharp and was going to wear on the nylon rope as soon as his weight dropped over the edge.

  “I need a small log.” He kicked snow trying to find something that would keep them both suspended and prevent the rock at the ledge from eating through the weave of the rope.

  Bethanie pounced on a branch and pulled it out of the snow. “This?”

  “That will work.”

  He moved the entire branch toward the opening. “Ethan, I'm going to pop a flare so I can see how to get down there with you. Close your eyes, okay? The light is going to be so bright it will hurt your eyes if you look at it.”

  “Okay. When?”

  “I'll let you know.” Ryan snapped the pack off his web belt and opened it in a practiced move. He fished out a flare, popped the top, and struck the course top against the chemicals on the cap of the flare. Once it flamed, he held it out to his side so the burning chemicals could drop off into the snow.

  “Okay, close your eyes, Bud.”

  “Okay.”

  Ryan got down on his belly and hung over the edge. “Fuck me.” His whisper blew away on the wind.

  “Oh, my God!”

  Ryan rolled up and grabbed the back of Bethanie's leg. She pushed away from the ledge.

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “If he moves, he's going to fall off that shelf.”

  There were about ten inches between the boy and oblivion.

  “He hasn't yet.” Ryan needed to get down to the ledge, get the kid piggy-backed and then hand-over-hand it back to the top of the chute.

  “Can I open my eyes now?”

  “Yeah, sorry, Bud. You need to do me a favor, okay?”

  “What?”

  “Push back against the wall and stay there until I come down to get you. I don't want to land on top of you.”

  He heard the boy move. “Okay. I'm back.”

  “All right, I'll be down in just a minute.” He stood and wrapped the rope around his legs. This was going to hurt like a motherfucker.

  Bethanie grabbed his arm. He snapped his eyes to hers. “How are you going to bring him back up?”