No Way Out

by Allison Brennan

  “I am grateful,” Hestia said.

  Another voice said, “I’ll make sure she is ready.”

  Rosita, Hestia’s nanny. She hadn’t wanted this marriage, either, but she feared Juarez and his reach.

  “I’ll tell your father you’re coming. Do not delay, Hestia, you will embarrass our family, and most certainly be punished by your husband.”

  A door opened, closed.

  This was Siobhan’s only chance.

  She pushed at the door. It yielded. Stuck. She pushed again.

  It opened.

  Siobhan climbed out of the small closet, a flicker of a childhood memory, of her mother reading her The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and Siobhan wished she could transport Hestia to Narnia, where no one would find her.

  But this was real, not fantasy.

  Siobhan wiped off the cobwebs and dirt. Wide-eyed, Rosita shook her head. “You can’t be here! They’ll kill you, they’ll kill me!”

  Hestia said, “I cannot marry that man. I would rather die than be his wife.”

  “Darling, don’t say that. It won’t be that bad.”

  “You can come with us,” Siobhan said. “I’ll take you to the US with Hestia.”

  “No. Hestia, I love you like my daughter. Please don’t run. He’ll find you. I fear for you. Your father is a powerful man. Francisco is a powerful man.”

  Rosita wanted Hestia to stay, but she wasn’t doing anything to alert the guards.

  Siobhan pulled zip ties out of her backpack. “To protect you,” she said to the nanny.

  Rosita had tears in her eyes, but she nodded. “Hit me,” she whispered.

  “I can’t.”

  Rosita picked up a wood carving and hit herself. The sharp edge of the base cut her cheek and blood dripped down. The older woman staggered and fell to her knees.

  Siobhan stifled a gasp, then used the zip ties on Rosita’s wrists. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Go fast. Go fast or you will die.”

  Siobhan gently laid her to the floor, then stuffed a rag in her mouth and grabbed Hestia’s hand.

  They couldn’t go back down the tunnel—too obvious, and they would be trapped. The only way out was the window, and it faced the back of the rectory.

  “We get to my car and we go, no looking back,” Siobhan said.

  “Thank you, Siobhan. Whatever happens, thank you.”

  A guard passed by the window but didn’t look inside. As soon as he disappeared from view, Siobhan pushed the frame open and helped Hestia out. The wedding dress was simple, but long and white, which stood out against the stark green-and-brown scenery. Fortunately, Hestia was in flats—satin ballet slippers—which would help her run.

  Siobhan climbed out after Hestia, closed the window, and ran low, away from the guards, away from the church. Hestia held her skirt up with one hand while Siobhan grabbed the other and pulled her along.

  No one saw them, and they made it to the first set of bushes, which obscured them from view of the church. The next open stretch was twice as long, and they’d be even easier to spot.

  It was seventy-five yards to her hidden truck. Shorter than a football field, but just as open. If they were spotted, Juarez had the vehicles and people to follow them. The only thing Siobhan had was . . . damn. Her whole plan was dependent on tricking them. Of making Juarez think she went one way, but going another. Because they went out the window that faced that rectory, Juarez hopefully assumed they’d be going in that direction, to the north. So that even if Juarez didn’t go to the rectory, he would be looking in the wrong direction. Just long enough to buy them the time to escape.

  Dear God, please help us. Please help us get to the truck safely.

  Then there was a shout. She looked, saw no guards.

  Please let them look north first. Please.

  “Now,” she said.

  Hestia ran with her over the open space. Siobhan didn’t hear anyone pursuing them, but she didn’t slow down or look.

  Breathless, they reached the truck. Siobhan jumped in and started the ignition. Hestia climbed in next to her. It was a small, cramped two-seater but had a full tank of gas, thanks to the Sisters.

  She pulled out, heading away from the church, her heart racing. They’d done it!

  She drove parallel to the stream until she was forced by the terrain to turn northwest, which would take them to a dirt road. She willed the truck to go faster. She couldn’t see anything behind her because of the dust that her wheels kicked up. But they were gaining speed. Not far now!

  She reached the road, turned west, and a hundred yards later slammed on her brakes.

  Two jeeps blocked the road. Four men stared at Siobhan, all with guns, all aimed at her.

  These weren’t Juarez’s men. They were Francisco’s men, the groom. They hadn’t been here when Siobhan came in. Were they patrolling? Had they been alerted?

  “Out,” one of them ordered.

  Hestia bit back a sob.

  Siobhan put the truck in reverse. They wouldn’t shoot; they didn’t want to risk hitting Francisco’s child bride.

  She drove straight back, then curved until she almost fell into a ditch, braked, then put the truck in drive and spun around. There was another way out, but time wasn’t on their side.

  Another truck raced up to her, boxing her in.

  Felipe Juarez jumped out. He had a gun aimed at Siobhan.

  “Hestia! Come here!”

  “Don’t,” Siobhan told her. “I’ll—” She was going to say she’d think of something, but she didn’t know what to do.

  “I’m so sorry, Siobhan. I’m so, so sorry.”

  “This is not your fault,” she said. She looked behind her. Francisco’s men were still there.

  “I’ll beg for mercy, for my father to spare your life.”

  “I have one more idea. Trust me.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “So am I.”

  Siobhan had to believe that Juarez wouldn’t shoot at his daughter, or they would both die. She took a deep breath, then pressed the gas and turned the wheel sharply to the left, across the dirt field. She kept going, knowing they would be followed, but she didn’t hear gunshots. She drove around the backside of the church, past the rectory, the truck violently bouncing up and down as she sped over the rocky terrain. Her head hit the roof more than once, but she focused on the land in front of her and prayed as hard as she’d ever prayed before.

  Don’t get a flat tire. Don’t get stuck.

  She spared a quick glance in the rearview mirror. They were following her. She glanced at Hestia, who clutched a Rosary bracelet, silently mouthing a Hail Mary.

  The field dipped as they headed toward the main road, and the truck picked up speed. For a moment Siobhan thought that they had a chance, at least to get to the road and an area she was more familiar with. If she could get out of their range, out of sight, they would hide in the woods and cross the land on foot until she found a vehicle to steal. Anything to get away from the brutal Felipe Juarez—and get Hestia away from being forced to marry Francisco Duarte.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another vehicle come at her from an angle. It hit the back corner of her truck, forcing her to spin out and stall.

  She was going to die.

  Two men got out of the car. Thugs. They had their guns raised and shouted for her and Hestia to get out.

  “Siobhan,” Hestia said, biting back a sob.

  The report of a rifle sounded, and Siobhan thought she was dead.

  * * *

  Kane gave Blitz the signal. Ten seconds later, through his binoculars, he saw the two men with guns on Siobhan and the girl fall dead to the ground.

  Yes, Blitz had been a damn good hire. Elite snipers who could make a head shot on multiple targets were hard to find.

  He watched as horror crossed Siobhan’s face, but then she quickly restarted her truck and headed away from the church.

  Good girl.

  He had been lucky
to find the boy on the road. Gino told him Siobhan’s plan. She clearly wasn’t thinking. How the hell did she think she could get the bride out of the church with two dozen armed men inside and out?

  He radioed his pilot. “ETA.”

  “A good afternoon to you, too, Kane.”

  Kane wanted to throttle the kid.

  “Twelve minutes,” Sean said, without Kane having to ask him again.

  “Nine,” Kane said.

  “Don’t see how that’s possible.”

  “Nine minutes and counting or you’ll be transporting home a couple of corpses. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Sean said, and clicked off the radio.

  Damn kid. If he wasn’t the best pilot Kane knew outside of the military, he’d never use him. But he wanted to keep Rogan-Caruso a family business, and that meant using Sean’s unique skill sets—planes and computers. But he wasn’t a soldier, he was a fucking kid genius with a degree from MIT. He treated these rescues as an adventure, a fucking game, and Kane wanted to knock some sense into him but didn’t quite know how. Nothing he seemed to do or say got through to him. If he wasn’t so damn good, Kane would have banned him until he acquired a healthy dose of fear.

  Siobhan approached where he’d pulled off the road. She slammed on her brakes when she saw his Jeep, and was about to put the truck in reverse when she recognized him.

  He motioned for her to get out.

  “Faster, Red,” Kane said, his mouth clenched. Damn, Juarez’s men were too close. “Get in and stay down,” he ordered.

  She and Hestia climbed into the back seat and made themselves as small as possible. Kane waited a count of three, then detonated the explosives he’d set. The explosion shook the ground, but he didn’t fall. He jumped into the driver’s seat and sped off.

  “That’ll buy us a few minutes,” he said. He glanced down at Siobhan, furious and relieved all wrapped into one. “Do you have a death wish, Red?”

  “You could have helped from the beginning.”

  “You don’t listen.”

  He didn’t care if she was angry with him. Not his problem. And as soon as he got her back to the States, she’d never be his problem again.

  Eight minutes later, they were in a small field. Sean’s plane was landing. Kane stopped the Jeep, told them to get out.

  “Are you injured?”

  “No,” Siobhan said. She had her arm protectively around Hestia.

  Kane looked at the girl. She’d been made up like a doll, too much makeup on her young face. Her mascara had streaked and her eyeshadow was smudged, and at some point she’d wiped her lipstick off with the back of her hand, and it had smeared across her cheek. But she didn’t look a day over thirteen, even with the glitz and glamour. His anger rose. At her father, at Francisco Duarte, at the reality that no girl should be forced to marry anyone against her will.

  Hestia spontaneously hugged him. “Thank you, Mr. Kane. Thank you for saving my life.”

  Kane looked at Siobhan over Hestia’s head. Caught her eye. Forced his expression to be as blank as possible.

  Hestia was now his responsibility, as much as Siobhan was. And he wouldn’t let either of them down.

  Blitz came out of the woods from the right, and the plane stopped just short of their Jeep. Sean opened the door and smiled. “Anyone need a lift?”

  Blitz said, “Move it, Little Rogan, they’re almost here.”

  “Thank you,” Siobhan told Kane quietly.

  “You lied to me and manipulated me.”

  She glared at him. “I didn’t lie to you. I told you I had to get my things. One of those things was Hestia. And I would do it again.”

  He knew she would. And he knew he would move heaven and earth to save her.

  “You’re impossible.” He helped Hestia up into the plane, and then Siobhan. “Siobhan, my brother Sean. Get us out of here, kid.”

  Chapter One

  Present Day

  Kane tipped his cold beer toward Sean. “Thanks for coming down.”

  “I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” Sean said. “I expected you to elope.”

  Damn, the kid was perceptive. “Siobhan wanted Andie to be here. It’s not like I could refuse.” Kane drained half his beer. He had never felt so . . . content, he supposed the word was. He’d never expected to settle down, though he didn’t know how settled he and Siobhan would be, considering that she wasn’t giving up her career as a photojournalist, and he had made it his life’s mission to keep her safe.

  Hell, he’d expected to be dead by now. Forty-five was old in his line of work. For the last year, especially after being shot in the back and losing a kidney, he knew he had to slow down. It was time for Sean and Lucy’s brother Patrick to take RCK in a slightly different direction, focusing on corporate and computer security instead of international kidnappings and Kane’s special causes.

  Though he wouldn’t give it up completely. He would simply be more selective in the jobs he took.

  And he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy his relationship with Sean. For years he’d used his brother’s insanely talented piloting skills without really getting to know him. Partly out of self-preservation. Kane’s life was dangerous, which by extension made Sean’s life dangerous.

  But recently, Kane had explored the idea that family was important. That Sean, and his wife Lucy, were as important to him as any of his brothers-in-arms, as important to him as the woman he’d fallen in love with. And while he liked—needed—his solitude out here on the RCK ranch in Hidalgo, Texas, he enjoyed knowing he could pop up to San Antonio for a couple days and catch up with his brother.

  “Jack said that he and you were training a new crew for rescue missions. I never thought you would retire, but it’s a good choice.”

  “Retire?” Kane laughed. “Hardly. We’ll call it a semi-retirement. Blitz and Ranger are both more than capable of being team leaders.”

  Ezra, the caretaker who’d been at the ranch since long before Jack signed it over to RCK last year, walked up the porch steps. “The bunkhouse is ready for Lieutenant Colonel Walsh. Need anything before I head out?”

  “Thanks for staying an extra day,” Kane said.

  “I’m sorry I’ll miss her. If I didn’t have this trip planned I would have stayed.”

  Ezra was old-school military, a veteran of both Vietnam and Desert Storm. He’d turned sixty-eight this year but had no intention of leaving the ranch. Jack Kincaid had brought him on when Jack left the Army, and Ezra had been here ever since. He lived in a two room cabin on the other side of the airplane hangar and kept to himself when Kane was around, but mostly made sure the ranch was functional when first Jack, then Kane, left on a mission. Took care of anything that came up, and he was a magician with planes and trucks.

  “Tell the Lieutenant Colonel Semper Fi from this old Army sergeant.”

  “I will,” Kane said.

  “I left a little something for you and Siobhan in the house.”

  “Thanks, Ezra. For everything.”

  Kane watched as his old friend waved and drove off in his Jeep.

  “Where’s he off to?”

  “Reunion with his squad. They meet in Denver every year.” Ezra had never married, had no children, and his squad was his family—as well as the Rogans and the Kincaids.

  Kane glanced over at Sean. “Stop thinking about it.”

  “What?”

  “Jesse. In California. There’s nothing you can do. You made the agreement with McAllister, live with it.”

  “Screw you.”

  Kane didn’t take offense. He knew Sean was going through a rough patch right now. It was the first time his son, Jesse, was in California staying with his maternal grandfather without Sean in the picture. Kane would have been willing to fight, but he understood that Sean feared losing Jesse if it went to court. McAllister had the time and money to dig deep into Sean’s life, into Lucy’s life, to find ways to hurt them. So letting Jesse spend a couple days here and
there with his grandfather was the compromise. It was Christmas break and now was as good a time as any. Sean had legal custody and the court had recognized that he was Jesse’s biological father. Jesse had willingly changed his last name to Rogan. Kane didn’t know why Sean was so worried.

  But he didn’t say anything. It took a minute, but Sean said, “McAllister is going to say anything to turn my son against me. I know it. I just have to trust Jesse not to listen to his lies.”

  Sean was more trusting than Kane. Jesse was a good kid, and he loved Sean, but he was thirteen and impressionable. Sending him for a week to stay with a man who hated Sean was borrowing trouble. But Kane didn’t say anything—it was clear Sean wasn’t comfortable with the whole thing, and had probably thought of everything Kane would say.

  Still, Jesse was a strong kid. He’d already faced more in his young life than most thirteen-year-olds, and Sean had done a great job getting him through the rough patches.

  Though Kane didn’t put anything past Ronald McAllister, he said—mostly to give Sean hope—“Jesse isn’t going to believe bullshit, Sean. He’s your kid, he’ll talk to you. You’ve only had him for a few months, but you’ve done good.”

  Sean didn’t say anything.

  “If you want to go to California, I understand,” Kane said.

  “The deal was McAllister gets Jesse the week after Christmas and two weeks in the summer. I put him on a plane yesterday before Lucy and I drove down here. He’ll be home Friday night.”

  “Then get rid of the long face, kid. I’m getting married. Never thought I’d say it.”

  “Never thought I’d hear it.”

  An alarm went off, then stopped. Kane frowned. Looked at his phone, which Sean had hooked up to the security system. “Western perimeter. Could be nothing—these things go off weekly. Animals, kids, a few times the cartel moving drugs—I nipped that in the bud. They know to stay away from this place. But with Ezra gone, I need to go check it out.”

  “Siobhan and Lucy won’t be back for a few hours, I’ll join you.”

  “Stay alert.”

  Kane sounded more serious now.