by Leigh, Lora
He turned to Gene, the suspicions tearing through him now were destructive. Cranston had known all along. Like Zeke, he had no proof of his suspicions, unlike Zeke, he hadn’t been chasing shadows. Cranston had had them all chasing shadows as he focused on Jonesy.
“Did you know it was Jonesy?” Zeke rasped back at Gene.
Gene shook his head furiously. “Jonesy wasn’t part of the League, Zeke.”
“Are you sure?” Zeke grabbed him by his shirt collar and jerked him closer. “Think, Gene. Did he know about the house? My house?”
Did Jonesy know about the secret tunnel into the basement, or the entrance to it?
Gene’s eyes widened. “God. You hid her at the house. God, no, Zeke.”
“Did he know about the house?” Zeke shook him roughly. “Did he know about the tunnel into the basement?”
It was the only way to get to her without setting off the alarms that would have instantly rang Zeke’s phone. It was the only way anyone could get to Rogue.
“Zeke, it was his idea,” Gene rasped. “Dad told me about it. Jonesy helped plan the construction of that tunnel years before your father ever built the house.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Jonesy’s voice was saddened, filled with regret, but Rogue also saw the maniacal glimmer of determination in his eyes as he slowly closed the panel to the hidden tunnel.
He stared around the room, his expression resolved, but also heavy. As though two men resided inside him, but the one that held the gun was now dominant.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like what, Jonesy?” She stared at the gun incredulously. “Like a man betraying everyone who loves him?”
She knew the moment she saw the gun that Gene wasn’t the only man that had betrayed a friend. Of course it had been in the pictures as well. Those scattered across Zeke’s desk. The three men, Thad Mayes, James Maynard, and Jonesy. The friendship they had forged as young men hadn’t been broken. The friendship that had aided Dayle Mackay and Nadine Grace in their treasonous activities had never disintegrated. It had remained strong, regardless of what others thought. A bond such as the three had shared would have been nearly impossible to break completely.
“I’m not betraying a friend.” He locked gazes with her, anger shadowing his eyes. “A friend would have listened when I warned her to steer clear of trouble. Your daddy listened. He took his woman and he left town, like I told him to do. Unfortunately, he didn’t come back and collect his daughter as I’ve warned him to do in the past five years. For some reason, Cal thought the threat was gone because Thad, Dayle, and Nadine were gone.” He shook his head with a mocking little grunt. “He didn’t consider James a threat, and he thought Gene’s loyalty would stay with Zeke. He’s not as smart as he used to be, Rogue. Or maybe he really just doesn’t care what happens to his troublemaking daughter.”
That wasn’t the case. Her father had screamed, harassed, and threatened her for five years in an attempt to get her back to Boston. His last-ditch effort was sending in John.
Her breathing hitched harshly. Oh God, John.
“Where’s John?” she whispered, his claim that he had killed her brother ricocheting through her mind. “What have you done, Jonesy?”
“Same thing I did to Thad.” He sighed. “That baseball bat I keep at the bar has a lot of blood staining it, Rogue. Now it has your brother’s and Natches Mackay’s as well. Right now, they’re burning in the flames of hell. I set an explosion in the bar. It’s gone, little girl. Gone along with your brother, Timothy Cranston, and those bastard Mackay cousins.”
“No.” Her head shook in disbelief. “You wouldn’t hurt John. Jonesy, please. You didn’t hurt John.”
Where was the man her father had said he would trust his life to? The man Rogue had trusted her life to?
Jonesy shook his head, regret filling his eyes though the gun never wavered. “I told you to stay away from Zeke Mayes, Rogue. He’s been trying to identify the remaining members of the League for six months now. Hell, we knew all along that he was working for DHS to take us down. Gene kept us informed there. The League has to survive. Our plans will go through. The future is more important than friendship or blood, girl.” His voice rose as anger filled it. His expression creased in fury as his hand tightened around the gun.
Rogue could feel the deadly intent that washed through the room now. Jonesy was going to kill her. She could see it in his eyes, in his face. The man she had thought she had known didn’t exist. Nothing existed behind the eyes she had once thought she could read except anger and murderous determination.
Betrayal was a rancid taste in her mouth as she fought to swallow past the tightness in her throat. Rogue wanted to howl with the pain now. She could feel the sharp wounds burying inside her soul, digging into her with merciless agony.
Tears were locked in her throat and in her eyes as she stared back at Jonesy, from his powerful shoulders to the insanity glittering in his eyes. It could only be insanity. There could be nothing sane about what he was doing. He had killed John and Natches.
John lit up the world with his games and his laughter. He was cynical, sometimes he was bitter, but he had loved her, made her laugh.
And Natches, with his crooked grin and his complete devotion to his wife and unborn child. He liked to joke that his wife would be the one to kill him eventually. Instead, it had been Jonesy. A trusted friend.
She couldn’t believe either of them were dead. John and Natches both were tough; they were strong. Jonesy might have hurt them, but she refused to believe they weren’t alive any longer.
Especially John. The brother who had taught her how to fight, the one that hid frogs in her drawers when she was a child, yet had bloodied his friend’s nose when she was younger for frightening her. He had protected her. He loved her. She couldn’t lose him.
“Yeah, it’s a hard thing, realizing it’s your fault your brother’s dead. Your friends.” A flash of regret clouded his eyes for long seconds. “It wasn’t easy to dispose of John, I want you to know that. But it wasn’t near as hard as killing Thad Mayes was. We were like brothers. But he was a weakness to the League. All that picture taking him and James Maynard had done. He threatened us with those pictures, you know? He wanted out. Wanted to go to L.A. to be with that bastard son of his.” Jonesy snorted at that. “He grew weak in his old age. Then that stupid wife of his trying to blackmail us and his dumb kid asking the wrong questions. We took care of Thad’s wife, and Zeke’s, too. And we took care of Thad. Thought Zeke got the message, loud and clear. When he came back here, I was gonna let it go. He was nice and quiet, wasn’t making any waves that I knew of.”
“And Joe and Jaime?” she whispered, her fingers tightening into fists as she stared back at him. “You killed them, too, didn’t you?”
He smiled at that. “They trusted me. Joe came to me, said he knew Gene was a part of the League. He wanted to use that information to make Gene back off where that girl of his was concerned. They were stupid, Rogue, and that grandmother of theirs wasn’t any smarter. The stupid bitch even called me, asking about Gene.” He shook his head at that. “So I killed her, too. And no one suspected. You know she cried when I picked her up out of that bed and told her what I was going to do. Cried tears and begged me not to.”
And he had enjoyed it. Rogue saw it in his face. Jonesy had enjoyed killing Callie Walker. The same way he would enjoy killing her, she realized.
“How do you think you’re going to get away with this, Jonesy?” Her voice was filled with tears, tears she refused to shed. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of begging or crying. She wouldn’t let him enjoy what he was getting ready to do to that extent. “Zeke will know Gene didn’t do this. You’ve killed too many people.”
“And anyone who would have talked is dead by now.” He shrugged. “I rigged the main gas tank to explode at the bar. It would have taken out most of the building, especially the back section where Gene was meeting with the few members left in town. I got John and Natches, an
d Cranston along with the other two Mackay cousins aren’t a threat if they managed to survive it. The League will reform without the weak bastards that were cowering in their homes praying not to get arrested. I’ll rebuild the League here, and one day, it will be more glorious than ever before.”
That damned League. The Freedom League. The group of military and ex-military fanatics that thought they could wage a revolution and take control of the government. Rogue would have laughed if the situation weren’t so desperate right now.
“Homeland Security broke the League, Jonesy,” she reminded him. “All but a few stragglers are in prison or dead. Your generals are gone. The money is gone. How can you rebuild after that?”
She had to think, she had to keep him talking, give herself a chance to get away from him. She couldn’t let him kill her; she couldn’t let him hurt anyone else that she loved.
“Rebuilding is never hard.” He shrugged his broad shoulders at her question. “You just need the right men in place. I have those connections. I know how to do it.”
“You’re a bartender,” she rasped. “In Kentucky, Jonesy. This isn’t a major metropolis. What connections could you have?”
He chuckled at her question. “Poor Rogue. I know it has to be hard to die, sweetheart. I promise, I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt.” He lifted the gun.
“Look at the pictures, Jonesy. Zeke already knows you’re involved.” She threw her hand out to the table where the pictures were scattered. “Thad Mayes wasn’t stupid. He sent Zeke’s mother pictures. He doesn’t even have all of them here,” she lied. “He went after the others. Don’t you think Thad would have protected himself, even from you?”
He paused, his eyes narrowing as it flickered to the table and the pictures. “I burned those pictures,” he seemed to wheeze.
“He made copies,” she warned him. “Lots of copies, Jonesy. He sent them to Zeke’s mother, and you know he sent them other places. He knew you would betray him, Jonesy. Zeke’s going to know when he finds them all. He’ll know you blew up the bar. You’re missing now. He’ll notice you’re missing.”
He shook his head slowly. “I covered my ass. Everyone but you heard me say I had to leave this evening. I wasn’t supposed to be there.”
“He’ll know, Jonesy. He knows you were calling me before I arrived here. He’ll figure it out, especially when he finds the other pictures.”
It was a desperate lie, but it was logical to her. Thad had sent Zeke’s mother pictures; he could have sent other copies elsewhere.
“There are no pictures in there of me.” But indecision flickered in his gaze.
Rogue forced a mocking smile to her lips. “But there are, Jonesy. There are several.” She moved back and waved her hand toward the hundreds of pictures scattered over the table. “Just look. He has all he needs to take you down just as the others were taken down.”
She wouldn’t have much time. Rogue fought to keep the thunder of her heart from her ears and to keep panic from setting in. She couldn’t think about John or Natches; she couldn’t let herself sink into the well of despair waiting on her.
She was logical. She could find a way out of this. She searched the room through her peripheral vision and tried to find a means of escape as she backed away from the table, allowing Jonesy to move closer to it.
The basement was cluttered with years of old furniture, clothes, and boxes. There were lamps propped against old tables, a hunting rifle in the other corner, a two-by-four piece of lumber stretched along the back of the couch.
She wished she had a weapon. She should have thought and made Zeke leave one with her. He’d left her here, thinking she was protected, and she had believed she would be. No, she’d been too shocked to think, too hurt to use her brain rather than her emotions.
The best-laid plans, she thought sarcastically. Zeke had known about the tunnel. He had thought she would be safe, and if by chance she wasn’t, then he had given her a place to hide. He couldn’t have known that anyone else knew about the tunnel, especially Jonesy, because he didn’t trust Jonesy to begin with.
“Crazy fucker,” Jonesy muttered as he riffled through a stack of pictures. “He was always taking these damned pictures. For posterity, he said, and Dayle always laughed and said he had a hold on Thad, that he could keep him in line.” He grimaced tightly as one of the more sexual pictures caught his eye. “He said he didn’t develop the pictures, and Dayle believed him.”
“But you knew better,” she said. “Didn’t you, Jonesy?”
Jonesy grinned. “I knew better. I knew when he left he’d take those negatives with him. I knew he’d betray us for that little bastard of his and the grandson Zeke wouldn’t let him see. Damn, Zeke hated his old man, ya know?”
“I didn’t know,” she lied again.
Jonesy nodded as a thoughtful look crossed his face. He picked up a picture of him, as a much younger man, with Thad and James Maynard. Zeke and Gene were in the pictures. They were just boys, dressed in camo with wide grins on their faces.
“I guess I’ll have to get rid of James now.” He sighed. “And Gene. That will suck. Though James is still cowarding like a little girl on his farm. He won’t even go to any of the meetings anymore. He doesn’t want to rebuild what we lost, says he’s too old,” he sneered then. “If he’s too old to fight, then he’s too old to live, wouldn’t you say?”
Rogue backed against the couch as his attention turned back to the pictures. Her fingers curled around the six-foot length of two-by-four that lay on the back of it.
She wasn’t far from him, less than six feet. If she could get a good swing in before he could bring the gun back up, then she might have a chance. That was all she needed, a fighting chance. She refused to stand here like a sacrificial lamb on the altar of his insanity. Freedom League, her ass. Those bastards needed to die anyway. They were all as damned crazy as Jonesy, otherwise they would have never gotten mixed up in such a crazy scheme as taking over the nation.
“He seems smart to me,” she said faintly as her fingers tightened on the wood. “Smarter than you.”
When he turned back to her, she moved. The two-by-four swung for his head before he could react. His arm came up, but not quick enough. He’d taught her what John hadn’t about fighting. He’d taught her how to disarm, how to kick effectively, but more, he’d taught her how to counter a defensive move.
She was short, weak, he’d always said, so he’d taught her to be effective rather than powerful. Using the momentum of her body, her shoulders, she slammed the wood into his shoulder, causing the gun to drop as she kicked out.
The heel of her boot caught his chin as she punched back with the end of the two-by-four into his head. Blood sprayed around her before she dropped the wood and ran for the stairs.
Forget the tunnel, she had no idea where it went. Jonesy was bigger than her, faster; she needed corners and furniture to hide behind, not a tunnel to run through.
She raced up the stairs cursing her boots even as she gloried in the blood they had shed. She slammed open the basement door as the blast behind her sent a bullet tearing through the wood inches above her head.
Ducking, she slammed the door closed, locked it, then threw a kitchen chair against it before racing to the back door and into the night.
It was dark and foggy as hell as the mist from the lake shrouded the house and the forest surrounding it. The night oozed a heavy blanket of thick fog, so thick it felt smothering as she stumbled around the house and ducked behind the border of evergreen hedges planted around it.
A quick glance at the bike had a sob choking her. The tires were flat. There wasn’t a chance of escaping on it. For the moment, all she had were the hedges.
It was minimal covering, but it was dark, her clothes were dark. Blinking back her tears, she prayed for a chance.
TWENTY-THREE
Breathing in slow and deep, Rogue tried to force back the panic threatening to rise inside her now that she had escaped the house. Surely it w
ouldn’t be too hard to hide here for a while. Maybe Jonesy would just leave.
She flinched at the sound of the kitchen door slamming closed.
The night suddenly seemed malevolent and frightening. Fear congealed inside her as a shiver raced up her spine and she strained to see through the thick fog to the land around her.
“Scary, isn’t it, little girl?” Jonesy’s voice was almost conversational as he spoke into the night. “The nights get real dark here in the mountains without the city lights to brighten them. Fog rolls in, and you can’t see what’s behind you, or what’s in front of you. It’s real easy to get lost, or to fall over a cliff. Or even worse, fall in the lake. The water is mighty cold this time of the year, Rogue.”
She shivered at the thought of how cold.
Eyes wide, the breath laboring in her chest, she fought to stay in place rather than to sprint through the night.
“Do you know the direction of the road out of here?” he called out to her. “Have you been here enough times that you’ll be able to stay on the gravel rather than the rocky ground and know where you are?”
She was smarter than that. She knew the difference between a graveled road and rocky ground.
Jonesy chuckled again. “Come on, Rogue. At least I’ll kill you quick. The night will make you suffer.”
God, how could she and her father have been so wrong about him? He wasn’t a friend, he was a monster.
Kneeling behind the thick, heavy hedge, Rogue felt the first tear fall. The night was cold, wet. For the briefest moment she remembered the feel of Zeke’s arms, the warmth of his body. A sob lodged in her throat at the need for that warmth.
She had seen the pain in his eyes earlier when he had realized Gene had betrayed him. Rogue felt that pain echoing inside her. In one night she had lost the man she loved, a friend, and possibly her brother.
“Rogue.” Jonesy’s hiss was filled with amusement as he drew closer to the hedge. “I know this land, this farm. I know every inch of it and of this house. I wonder if I can guess where you’re hiding.”
