Love Inspired Suspense June 2015 - Box Set 2 of 2: Exit StrategyPaybackCovert Justice

by Shirlee McCoy

  “We need to hurry,” she whispered, the words pushed past the hot lump in her throat.

  “We need to be quiet,” he responded.

  “The dogs—”

  “Shhhhhh!” he warned as they stepped out of the trees and onto a dirt road shrouded in shadows. No spotlights here, but she knew exactly where they were. Up ahead, the garage stood in the middle of a cleared field. No trees. No bushes to hide their approach. It seemed like an eternity since she’d driven her car across the clearing, parked it in the far left bay, handed her keys to her father-in-law. She’d planned to stay two weeks. Tops. She was closing in on three months. Was the car still there? Or had Elijah gotten rid of it? He sure hadn’t planned to let her return home. She knew that. Did her father-in-law? Her mother-in-law?

  “See that tree?” Cyrus motioned to a huge pine tree that jutted up from the edge of the forest. “I want you to wait there.”

  “For what?”

  “I’m going to get in the garage and hot-wire a car. It’s going to take a few minutes.”

  “Minutes?”

  “I’ve done this a couple of times,” he responded, giving her a gentle push toward the tree. “Hurry up. We’re running out of time.”

  “I’m coming with you.” No way was she going to stand near a pine tree, hoping for the best. If Cyrus got in the garage and managed to start a car, she planned to be right there with him.

  “It’s too dangerous,” he insisted, his eyes flashing in the darkness.

  “For me but not for you?”

  “For both of us, but it’s my job to take the risk.”

  “We’re wasting time arguing about it.” She headed across the clearing, heard him mutter something under his breath as he followed.

  *

  Cyrus wanted to drag Lark back to the tree line, but she was right. They were wasting time. The garage was just ahead, dark and silent. No sign that anyone was nearby. He snagged the back of Lark’s sweater. “Let me take the lead.”

  She nodded, moving to his left, letting him walk a few steps ahead. In the distance, the dogs barked frantically. How long before one of Elijah’s men realized that he and Lark had headed back toward the compound? The young guys were mostly paramilitary thugs who had delusions of grandeur. Trained in underground militia groups, they had no idea how to track deer let alone human beings. They were dogged, though, and he doubted they had much in the way of moral codes. Loyalty to the highest bidder. That seemed to be the theme of Elijah’s security force. That made the men unpredictable and not easy to control. That was one of the reasons Cyrus had been invited into the group. His military training gave him a leg up, his experience making him perfect leadership material in John’s eyes. Getting inside the compound had been easy. Getting out was going to be complicated. He’d gotten out of worse situations, but he’d always had a team to back him up.

  He reached the six-bay garage. The lock was rudimentary. Elijah obviously wasn’t all that worried about having vehicles stolen. Why would he be? They were out in the middle of nowhere, the citizens of Amos Way were followers who seemed to like the strict rules they lived by.

  Lark touched his arm, her fingers light and tentative. “I parked my car in the far left bay. It’s an old Ford Mustang. I didn’t lock the doors. Should be pretty easy to hot-wire, if you know how.”

  He did. He also knew how to pick locks, hack into computer systems and pretend to be a hundred people he wasn’t.

  It took seconds to open the garage bay. The building was filled with cars, each bay four or five cars deep. He didn’t use his flashlight. No sense calling attention to themselves. But he could see the hulking bodies of a few old trucks and several ancient Cadillacs.

  Lark’s Mustang was a 1967 muscle car. Not practical for the kind of dirt road driving that was required to reach the compound. The doors were unlocked, and she climbed in the passenger seat, silent, pensive. He could feel her anxiety as he went to work, could feel his own anxiety building. Every beat of his heart was a reminder that time was ticking away, that Elijah’s men would circle back around eventually. Probably sooner than Cyrus would like, sooner than he needed them to.

  He took a utility knife from his belt, opened the ignition switch on the car. His hands were steady, his mind focused, but he could hear the dogs in the background. They were getting closer.

  He stripped the wires, held them together.

  The engine started, and he stepped on the gas, revved it.

  It coughed and sputtered. Stalled out.

  “Come on,” he muttered, touching the wires again, repeating the process.

  The engine sputtered, died. Again.

  “We need to get out of here,” Lark said, an edge of panic in her voice.

  She was right, but going on foot wasn’t going to work.

  Elijah’s men were too well armed and too determined to stop them. He didn’t let himself lose focus, couldn’t allow himself to think of anything but that moment. Touching the wires together again, revving the engine. It caught the fourth time, kept running as he put the car into gear.

  “Thank you, God,” Lark whispered.

  Cyrus almost told her that they weren’t home free yet, that they had a long way to go before they were safe.

  No sense raining on her parade.

  Or scaring her more than she already was.

  He let the car roll out of the garage, knowing that the sound of tires and engine would carry on the quiet night air. Out here, there were no cars driving by, no traffic creating white noise. There was nothing but the sound of nature. When that was interrupted, everyone in the community noticed it.

  As soon as he cleared the garage, he stepped on the gas. The car responded immediately, jumping forward with so much speed the tires spun. It was a nice ride. One Cyrus would have appreciated more if he weren’t expecting trouble.

  He knew they were only minutes ahead of their pursuers. If Cyrus was fast enough, he’d have just enough time to get to the end of the dirt road before the security team caught up. Once they hit the paved road, it was a three-mile drive to the interstate. There’d be traffic there. Not much this time of night, but enough to put some cars between the Mustang and Elijah’s team. Unless they wanted a fight with the local police and the state PD, they’d back off and let Cyrus leave.

  Trees brushed the sides of the car, but he didn’t have time to be careful. His headlights splashed across the rutted winding road, reflecting off trees and a guard rail that separated the road and a small creek that ran to the west of the compound. He’d been there a couple of days ago, fishing with a few of the men who provided food for Amos Way. They hadn’t been part of the security team. They were members of the community who had given up everything to live secluded from worldly influences. Good, God-fearing men who didn’t seem to have a clue that their compound was being used as a front for something else. Strange, because it had taken Cyrus all of three days to realize that Essex’s missing friend wasn’t the only thing being hidden in Amos Way.

  Of course, he was more cynical than most people, more suspicious than most. It came with his past, with his military career, with his job.

  He’d still felt guilty for playing the men for fools, because that’s what they’d think he’d done. They’d been accepting, kind, showed him the ropes of fishing and asked him about his life. He’d lied about his past, given the background HEART had created for him. He’d listened while one of the men had shared the gospel, obviously concerned for Cyrus’s eternal salvation. Then, he’d turned the conversation around and picked their brains, tried to get a feel for what was going on under the surface of the compound.

  A conversational thief. That’s what his colleague Stella liked to call him. A master at moving a conversation in the direction he wanted it to go without anyone realizing he was doing it. It was a good tool to have in his line of work, and he wasn’t going to give up doing it. He just wished he hadn’t been using it on a couple of guys who’d have probably been his friends in other circum
stances.

  In these circumstances, they’d probably stand by and watch while Elijah’s security team shot him.

  Community over self.

  He had to keep that in mind. The people of Amos Way seemed innocent and oblivious, but they were indoctrinated to believe that Elijah’s word was nearly the same as God’s.

  Not cool. Not in any situation. In this one, it could prove to be deadly. If he and Lark were caught, there’d be no second chance at escape.

  Behind them, lights splashed on the dirt.

  Nothing more than a curve in the road separated them from the security team. It was tempting to pull over, get out, stage an ambush. He could take out the tires of the vehicles, but he couldn’t take out the gunmen. Not all of them. Not before he or Lark was hurt.

  Or worse.

  He accelerated, taking a curve too quickly, the tires spinning in dirt and dead leaves before finding traction again. He could hear Lark’s breathing, hear her frantic gasps. She didn’t scream, though. Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t do anything but sit stiff and tense in her seat, eyes trained on the road in front of them.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror, saw a black sedan rounding the curve he’d just taken. It was a straight stretch to the paved road. Nothing between him and the car behind.

  Not just one car. Another sped around the curve. Probably four or five armed men in each.

  They were going all out to keep Lark from escaping.

  Because of what?

  What did she have or know?

  There were a dozen questions he wanted answers to, but he wouldn’t get any of them until they were out of danger.

  The headlights splashed on blacktop, and his heart jumped.

  Almost there. Just a few hundred yards, and then three miles.

  He sped out onto the paved road, taking the turn so quickly, he nearly lost control.

  Slow it down. That’s what his colleague Jackson would have been saying. Stay focused.

  Cyrus would have been ignoring him and everyone else on the team. Not that he didn’t respect the other members. He did. He was used to making split-second decisions, trusting his instincts to get him through. Right now, his instincts were saying that the cars behind them weren’t the only things he needed to be concerned about.

  If Lark was right, the sheriff of the closest town had connections with Amos Way. It was possible the danger behind them was chasing them into even more danger. If Cyrus was arrested on some trumped-up charge, Lark would be alone. That would be a perfect opportunity for Elijah to take her down.

  He wasn’t going to let that happen.

  He had to get to a phone, call in the team, get some backup.

  First, he had to lose their tail.

  He pressed the accelerator to the floor and sped along the road, heading toward the interstate and their only hope of escape.

  FIVE

  Lark clutched the door handle, her gaze on the side mirror. She could see the headlights of the oncoming car. The Mustang was fast, but she didn’t know if it was fast enough to outrun a modern car. She’d never tested it out, never been tempted to drive above the speed limit, find out the Mustang’s mettle. She’d bought it when she was in high school, and she’d spent a good amount of money making sure it stayed running. After she’d married Joshua, the car had been stored in the Amos Way garage. She’d retrieved it after his death, driven it to Baltimore, slept in it for a few too many nights, because she’d barely had enough money in her account to buy food and gas let alone rent a place.

  She loved the old car, but she loved her life a little more. If pushing it to its limits burned the engine out, so be it. As long as they got to the highway before that happened.

  “Can you go any faster?” she asked, her heart thumping painfully. Her body seemed to be vibrating with the force of it, and she had to clench her teeth together to keep them from chattering.

  She’d been scared plenty of times in her life, but this was the stuff of nightmares. A pitch-black road, headlights behind them, nothing but darkness ahead. Certain death if they were caught, but not much of hope of escaping.

  Her eyes were dry from staring so long without blinking, but she was afraid if she did blink the car would be on them, bullets would be flying. Cyrus might lose control of the Mustang, drive it into the ditch on the side of the road.

  “Breathe,” Cyrus said so quietly she almost didn’t hear.

  “What?” she tried to ask, but she had no breath in her lungs, no air to push the words out.

  “Slow breaths, Lark. In and out, because if you pass out and fall into me, we’re both going to be in trouble.”

  Breathe. Right.

  The body was supposed to do that automatically. Hers seemed to have forgotten how. She took a gasping breath and then another, realized that she was clutching the door handle so tightly, her nails were cutting into the leather.

  “I’m okay,” she said as much for herself as for Cyrus.

  “I know you are.”

  “And I was breathing.” Just not regularly.

  “Okay,” he said, his eyes focused on the road, his attention fixed exactly where she wanted it to be.

  “They’re still behind us,” she pointed out just in case he’d missed the bright lights on the road behind them.

  “Another thing I didn’t need to be told,” he responded drily.

  “Do you need to be told that there’s a stop sign about a hundred yards straight ahead?” she asked, her gaze fixed on the sign and the intersection beyond it. No merge onto the interstate. This was supposed to be a full-out stop.

  He didn’t respond, didn’t seem to let up on the gas.

  One minute they were approaching the intersection, the next minute they were in it, tires spinning as he took the turn too quickly, righted the Mustang and just kept on going.

  “Are you crazy?” she nearly shouted. “You could have gotten us killed. You could have killed someone else!”

  “There was no one coming.”

  “There could have been!”

  “Do you think I would have risked your life and the life of another driver? I don’t do things unless I’m as sure of the outcome as anyone ever could be.”

  “How would I know what you would or wouldn’t do? I don’t know you, remember?” She glanced in the mirror. No lights. Not one car was on the road behind them. “They’re gone,” she said, almost afraid to say it out loud for fear that the lights would appear again.

  “I noticed.” If he was happy about it, she couldn’t tell. His expression was hard, his jaw set. If she’d seen him in an alley somewhere, she’d have run the other direction. But there she was, letting him drive her Mustang while she sat in the passenger seat and hoped he was one of the good guys.

  “You’re not surprised?”

  “No.”

  “Can you elaborate?”

  He nodded, his hands relaxed on the steering wheel, his gaze still focused on the road. “You said that Elijah’s brother is the sheriff of River Fork.”

  “Half brother.”

  “River Fork is the closest town. Elijah knows that. He’s probably already called his brother to let him know we’re on the way.”

  “So we’ll go to Smithville. It’s a dot on the map, but it’s only twenty miles farther. There’s a gas station, a phone, a—”

  “We’re almost out of gas. I’m sure Elijah knows that, too.”

  “I had half a tank when I gave my father-in-law the keys.” She leaned across the seat, looked at the fuel gauge. From her angle, it looked like they were already on empty. “Someone syphoned the gas or drove the car around without permission.”

  Cyrus shrugged. “The reason is irrelevant, because it doesn’t change anything. We’re going to need gas. Thanks to Elijah’s rules about not having money at Amos Way, neither of us can pay for it.”

  “Don’t you get paid to be part of the security team?” She’d been told the security team got paid well. Why else would so many young men stay in a place w
ith such strict rules?

  “The money is deposited into my bank account, but I don’t have access to it unless I’m out of the compound. My wallet, cell phone and electronics were collected when I entered Amos Way. Just like yours were.”

  “So, you’re driving without a license?”

  He laughed, the sound rough and a little harsh. “I think that’s the least of our worries.”

  He was right, but it was a lot easier to worry about that then about the nearly empty fuel tank, their moneyless state, Elijah’s half brother waiting for them to show up in River Fork.

  If he was waiting.

  She’d spoken to Sheriff Radley Johnson several times in the weeks following Joshua’s death. He’d been kind, empathetic, seemingly determined to uncover the truth. In the end, he’d said that there hadn’t been evidence of homicide and no obvious motive for someone in the compound to want to harm Joshua.

  She’d tried to convince him that Joshua was too careful to have made such a rookie mistake, but he’d been unable to reopen the case without evidence to prove that the death was more than an accident. Unable or unwilling? That’s what she’d wondered when she’d decided to return to Amos Way.

  She was wondering it even more now that they were heading straight for the sheriff’s jurisdiction.

  If Elijah had called ahead, asked his brother to stop them, that would explain why the security team had given up the chase.

  She squeezed the bridge of her nose, trying to stop the pulsing pain that was building behind her eyes. It had been months since she’d had a full-out debilitating migraine. Usually, the first hint of one and she took the medicine she’d been prescribed.

  But Elijah didn’t believe in medicine. He didn’t allow pain relievers, instead he encouraged his followers to pray for healing, expected that they would avoid doctors. There were a few rare occasions when a member of the community was granted permission to seek medical treatment, a few times when an accident required a trip the emergency room.

  Elijah hadn’t made any exceptions for Lark. He’d confiscated her medicine before she entered the compound, refused to allow her to see a doctor when she’d had a fever a couple of weeks ago.