Maybe the tears were doing that. They were filling her eyes so fast she could barely see.
She bumped into something, realized it was Mason, standing in her way again. Only this time he pulled her closer, wrapped her in his arms, pressed her head to his chest. “Breathe,” he said gently, and she realized that she hadn’t been, that the things impeding her vision weren’t just tears, they were stars, dancing around as her oxygen-starved brain struggled to keep going.
She inhaled, clutching Mason’s sides as she forced herself to calm down, to think.
And the only thing she could think was that it was her fault. That somehow the men who’d been after her had gone after Henry.
“They have him,” she said, moving away from the comfort of his touch and the warmth of his arms.
“Henry?”
“Yes. He’s missing and they have him. I know it.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions, sis,” Jackson said, but he was already on his phone, relaying information to someone. Probably a team member.
“It’s not much of a jump,” Mason said, his expression grim, his voice hard. “All they’d have had to do was ask the right questions of the right people, and they could have found out about Bryn and Henry and their relationship to Trinity.”
“They wouldn’t have had to ask anything,” she responded woodenly, her thoughts suddenly crystal clear. “They had the album.”
“What album?” Cyrus asked. He’d ended his call and was texting something.
“I put together a little photo album with pictures of Henry and Bryn. It was in my purse, so they’d have known the two were important to me.” She shivered, the cold that had been with her since her dunk in the lake settling deeper.
“And you are important to them,” Mason said quietly, rubbing warmth into her cold arms. “Until they have what they want from you, they’re not going to hurt Henry.”
“You don’t know that.”
“It’s as good an assumption as any,” Chance cut in, his tone matter-of-fact, no hint of worry or panic.
“Chance, he’s a little boy. He’s going to be terrified. What if he tries to escape and they kill him? What if he doesn’t and they keep him hidden away? His surgery is scheduled for next week. Without it, the cancer is going to spread and he’s going to have a lower chance of survival.” She could feel her anxiety building, hear the panic bubbling up in her voice.
“He’s not a little boy,” Chance said. “He’s a smart kid with a good head on his shoulders. He won’t do anything stupid and they won’t, either. They want you. Not him. He’s just a pawn.” He tucked his phone into his pocket and turned his attention to the deputy. “We’re heading to the little airport outside of Whisper Lake. Do you mind providing an escort?”
“I’ll have to check with the sheriff, but—”
“By the time you do, we’ll already be out the door. Since you’re assigned guard duty for Trinity, it might not be a good idea to let her out of your sight,” Chance said reasonably, and the deputy frowned.
“You’ve got a point.”
“So, you’ll do it?”
“I guess I will,” he said. “If you guys wait in the lobby, I’ll drive my cruiser up to the front door and give you rides to your vehicle.”
“I’m parked in the back,” Chance said.
“Me, too,” Jackson added. “The easiest way to do this is to go out the back door and straight to our cars. More than likely, the perps will be watching the front doors and not paying much attention to the back. They’re also looking for a patient. I’m thinking we can confuse them even more by borrowing scrubs.”
“And not leaving as a group,” Cyrus added.
Trinity didn’t say anything, because she didn’t care how they did things. She just wanted them done.
* * *
It took five minutes to come up with a plan that everyone agreed on. Sixty seconds later Mason and Trinity were in the nurses’ break room, donning surgical scrubs. Mason pulled the mask down over his face, watching as Trinity did the same.
He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten the assignment, but it was his job to get her to the main level and out the back door. Mostly used for delivery, it was tucked away in an alcove created by two wings of the hospital. Five flights down. Into a corridor. Turn left and keep going. Those were Chance’s instructions.
“Okay,” Trinity said, pulling a cap over her light brown hair. “I’m ready.”
“You sure you can make it down the stairs?”
“As sure as I am that if I get my hands on the people who kidnapped Henry, I’ll...” Her voice trailed off.
“What?”
“Hand them over to the authorities.” Spoken aloud, the threat didn’t seem nearly as intimidating as it did in her head. She walked to the door, her movements a little slower than usual, her stride a little uneven.
“Are you sure you’re up to this?” he asked, glancing at his watch and then opening the door. They had six minutes to get down the stairs and out the door. Healthy, Trinity could probably have done that in half the time.
She wasn’t healthy, though.
“My feet are still blocks of ice, but I can make it.”
“We can grab a wheelchair and I can push you out.”
“That will require taking the elevator. Which you all agreed wasn’t the best idea.”
True. The elevator seemed like the place most likely to be watched and Mason wanted to avoid it. But if Trinity couldn’t walk down the stairs, it might be a necessity.
“We can use it if we have to.”
“We don’t.” She stepped into the hall ahead of him and he pulled her back.
“We agreed, I was leading.”
“Then go ahead and do it. My friend is in Maryland and she needs me now. Not tomorrow.”
“We rush things and make mistakes,” he responded, “she might not ever get the help you want to provide.”
“I know,” she said with a quiet sigh. “I’m sorry. I just feel like this is my fault.”
“It’s not.”
“I had the album. I let some horrible people get their hands on it.”
“And, if you could, you’d don wings and race to the rescue. Unfortunately you’re no more a superhero than I am. You’re going to have to take the slow road and you’re going to have to be careful while you’re on it.”
He led the way down the hall and opened the stairwell door, scanning the corridor while Trinity walked through.
No sign of trouble. Not yet. But he was expecting it. If they’d had time, he’d have stopped at his place and grabbed a weapon. They didn’t. Henry’s safety was paramount and, until he was home, nothing mattered but finding him.
The trip down the stairs took less than three minutes. Once they reached the corridor, they booked it to the exit and Mason knocked on the door, listening for the signaled response. One quick rap. Three slower ones.
He opened the door, crisp, cool air sweeping in.
Cyrus was there, his attention on the back lot. He raised a hand, signaling for Jackson and Chance to pull up. They’d decided on one vehicle. The SUV Jackson had rented. There was enough room for everyone and, according to Jackson, enough tint on the windows to prevent anyone from taking an accurate shot at the occupants.
The vehicle rolled up, lights off, engine humming quietly. They’d been idling, watching the lot, looking for signs they’d been followed. That had been as much a part of the plan as taking the stairs, riding together, having a hospital orderly take the deputy’s place in front of Trinity’s room.
What wasn’t part of the plan was Mason boarding the plane with Trinity. It wasn’t part of the group plan, anyway. It was part of his personal plan. He hadn’t bothered to inform the team. He figured he’d let them know during the ride to the airport.
Cyrus opened the back door and Trinity c
limbed in, sliding across the bucket seat and settling into the middle, exactly the way she’d been told.
Mason climbed in after her, closing the door as Cyrus moved to the other side of the vehicle and got in.
When they pulled out of the parking lot, the deputy was behind them, driving Chance’s rental rather than his marked car.
They were out of the hospital lot and on the open road within in minutes, the plan executed flawlessly. No one spoke as they wound their way along country roads and back trails. They were taking the longest, most difficult, route purposely, because it was also the least traveled.
No cars in sight.
No houses, either. Just trees. Fields. Land.
The airport was fifty miles away and, by the time they reached it, Trinity had fallen asleep, her head resting on Mason’s shoulder, her body relaxed.
He didn’t wake her as Jackson drove through the gates.
She needed sleep and he needed to know she was getting it. This part of the plan was the easy part. The rest? It was going to be more difficult.
“She sleeping?” Jackson asked, breaking the silence.
Mason met his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Yes.”
Chance shifted in his seat, didn’t seem surprised to see his sister leaning against Mason’s shoulder. “The pilot is still doing safety checks, so let her sleep until we get the all-clear to board.”
“How many can he take?”
“Nine. I included you in my count when I gave him the passenger list,” Chance said, his tone matter-of-fact, his gaze still on his sister.
“Thanks,” Mason said.
Chance finally met his eyes. “Just so you know, Gains. The jury is still out on you.”
“I didn’t realize a deliberation was going on.”
Cyrus snorted. “We all despised her ex. We’re not letting her get hurt again, so there’s no way there’s not going to be a deliberation.”
“Trinity is old enough to know what she wants and who she wants to be with.”
Jackson cut into the conversation. “And we’re stubborn enough and determined enough to make sure she doesn’t want to be with someone we don’t approve of.”
“I’m sure she appreciates your overprotective natures.”
“She doesn’t,” Trinity mumbled, lifting her head and meeting his eyes.
She must have realized she’d been sleeping on his shoulder because she scooted away, bumping into Cyrus in her effort to put distance between them.
“I don’t bite,” he said, and she scowled.
“I’m not worrying about being bitten. I’m worried about...” She shot a look in her brothers’ direction and didn’t continue.
“Where’s the plane?” she asked instead.
“On the runway.” Chance opened his door and got out. “Matt says were clear to board.”
“Matt Galloway?” Trinity seemed surprised. “I thought he was flying supply planes in Africa.”
“He was. We pulled him out of there last summer, remember?” Chance responded.
“I remember, but I thought he went back.”
“He wanted to. His friends convinced him that it wasn’t safe.”
“Were you one of those friends?” Trinity asked as Chance opened Cyrus’s door.
“I was the one that did most of the convincing. I don’t want to see people I care about hurt, and he had a bounty on his head there.”
“For what?” Mason asked, curious despite himself.
“Spreading the gospel while he delivered supplies. Faith in God drives out superstition and the local witch doctors weren’t happy about that.”
They moved across the airport yard, the dimly lit area providing cover Mason didn’t think they’d need. Hoped they wouldn’t need.
The private plane was just ahead, a long shadow in the darkness. A man moved forward to greet them as they approached. A couple of decades older than Mason, he had the stooped shoulders of someone who’d spent a lifetime lifting heavy crates.
“You made it!” Matt Galloway exclaimed, vigorously shaking Chance’s hand. “We’re cleared to take off in five, so let’s board and get moving. Weather is perfect for a night flight. Got something for you, Trinity,” he added, lifting a box from the roll-in stairs leading to the airplane door.
“What is it?”
“Don’t know. The sheriff dropped it off five minutes ago. Said you’d probably need it.”
She glanced in the box, a smile lightening her face as she pulled out her cell phone and keys. “The keys aren’t going to do me a whole lot of good, but if I can get a charger for my phone...”
“There’s one on board.” Galloway gestured to the stairs. “Go ahead up. Make yourselves comfortable. The flight won’t take long. A little less than two hours. You’ll be back home before you even realize you were away.”
Trinity laughed, but it sounded strained.
She stepped onto the stairs and headed up.
Mason followed, his shoulder still warm in the spot where her head had been resting, his thoughts racing with possibilities. He’d spent the last decade mostly alone. His choice. And he hadn’t really thought about making another one, but there was something about Trinity that made him want to revisit old ideas, think through old decisions, make certain they were still apropos to his life.
He entered the small plane, ducking his head as he moved through the cabin. Trinity had chosen a seat near the back and he went there, pointing to the seat beside hers.
“This seat taken?” he asked, and she smiled, all the sweetness he’d noticed in her the first day they’d met, in her eyes.
“It will be if you take it.”
“You don’t want to sit next to one of your brothers?”
“I’ve spent a lifetime being next to them. It’s good to switch up the routine,” she responded, her smile broadening as he settled into the seat.
He knew he shouldn’t do it, but he brushed his knuckles along her silky cheek. “You’re beautiful when you smile, Trinity.”
“So are you,” she responded, surprising a laugh out of him.
“Thanks. I think.”
“Buckle up.” Galloway’s voice carried through a PA system, offering advice and instruction as he started to taxi down the runway.
Mason tried to relax, but he’d never much liked flying. Not since his last stint in the military. Too many memories. Too many horrible images.
He forced himself to take a flight somewhere at least once a year. Other than that, he kept his feet firmly on the ground and his thoughts firmly in the present.
“You okay?” Trinity asked, and he nodded.
“I’m not,” she responded. “I hate flying in tiny planes.”
She grabbed his hand, clutching it as the plane shot into the air.
Maybe she was afraid.
But he thought she was doing it for him—offering a connection that would anchor him to the moment, keep him from slipping into the past.
“Thanks,” he said, and she met his eyes.
“I really do hate flying in tiny planes,” she said, her cheeks flushed with pleasure or, maybe, embarrassment.
“Thanks, anyway,” he said and then leaned in and did something he hadn’t even realized he’d wanted to do. Not until that moment. Not until he saw the softness in her eyes and in her face. He brushed his lips across hers, a tentative touch that left him wanting more.
She leaned in, her hand sliding up his arm and settling on his shoulder.
It felt right to be there in that moment, the past fading away as—
Something whacked him in the back and he jerked away, turning to grab a phone charger that was sliding toward the floor. Once he caught it, he looked up and realized Jackson was standing beside him.
“Watch yourself or that deliberation we’re having isn’t going to
go well.”
He returned to his seat and Mason handed the charger to Trinity, more amused than annoyed.
“My brothers are twin pains in the neck,” she muttered, her flush even deeper, her hand trembling as she plugged into a power station attached to the wall.
“Your brothers care. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“I guess not. Sometimes I wish they’d just be a little more subtle about it.”
He laughed, and Chance shot him a hard look.
Mason returned it.
He wasn’t worried about the Miller men. He was worried about Trinity, about Henry, about keeping the two of them alive. There was no room for anything else. Not yet.
Eventually though...
Eventually he thought there would be.
The tide was turning; the current that had carried him out of society was carrying him back in again. God working in His mysterious ways, bringing two people who needed each other into the right place at the right time to help each other.
All that praying he’d done, all those words he’d thrown out to God, Mason was beginning to believe they’d finally brought him to exactly the place he was supposed to be.
THIRTEEN
Trinity didn’t have time to waste thinking about the kiss, but she thought about it, anyway. While the team outlined plans for finding Henry, keeping Trinity safe and putting the perpetrator behind bars, she listened. She contributed. But she also remembered...the feel of Mason’s lips, the warmth of his hand, the gentleness of his touch.
By the time the plane landed, she was annoyed with herself and more than ready for some fresh air.
Of course, her brothers had different plans and she had to follow protocol, twiddling her thumbs while the men did recon, moving through the tiny Odenton Airport, searching for trouble.
She stood near the door, clutching her bag and her phone, wishing they’d hurry up.
When her phone rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin. She’d checked her messages an hour ago; listened to every heartrending voice mail Bryn had left. Then she’d tucked her phone into her pocket and tried to forget about it, because she didn’t want to do what she was tempted to—listen to the messages over and over again, search for clues she wasn’t going to find.
Mistaken Identity Page 17
