After that, Regan dragged her off for a quick aikido lesson while Sirius, the girl’s cat, supervised.
“Frankie,” Caz called from his deck. “I have something for you.”
He met her at the foot of the steps and handed her a folded strip of paper. GIVE TO FRANKIE was written on the outside.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“No sé. I was tossing the clothes I’d worn earlier into the laundry and found it in my lab coat pocket.”
He wore a white lab coat at the health clinic. “Maybe a patient put the note into your pocket?”
“That would be my guess. It would have happened today since I change lab coats daily.”
A chill ran up her spine. She knew only one person who might need to sneak her a message. “Well, thank you.” Ignoring the curiosity in his gaze, she headed for the center of the lawn and away from everyone.
She opened the folded-up paper.
F,
They know you’re here. Get out before they find you. I won’t be here. O takes us away tomorrow. He won’t tell me where.
Please, please, go home and be safe. Thank you for trying. It means everything.
Love you…and I’m sorry,
K
Frankie stared at the note. Read it again. Scowled at the misshapen letters. That wasn’t Kit’s writing. Was this a trick?
Or…
She ran onto Caz’s deck and pounded on the door until he slid it open.
“Frankie, what’s wrong?”
She waved the note. “Did you have a Patriot Zealot as a patient today? A young woman?”
His expression darkened. “Sí.”
“Was something wrong with her right hand? A reason she couldn’t write with it?”
He hesitated.
“Please, Doc,” she pleaded. “It’s not her writing, so I need to know.”
“Ah.” His face was grim. “The Patriot Zealots don’t often come to me, but her right arm was broken. They tried to set it themselves but couldn’t.”
Broken. Broken. Oh, Kit. Those bastardi had hurt her. “Was she all right? Was she—”
Caz shook his head. “If your friend hadn’t used me to convey her note—and if you didn’t have a valid concern over who might have written it—I couldn’t have told you even that much, chica. There are privacy rules. Don’t ask me for more.”
Of course, there were rules. All the rules. Nothing to protect Kit and Aric.
She clamped her jaw over the angry words. It wasn’t his fault, and he’d told her what she needed to know. “Thanks. Really, Thanks, Doc.” At least, for a while today, Kit had experienced some loving care.
Caz put his hand on her shoulder. “Frankie, talk to me. We can—”
She fled off the steps, her thoughts too frantic to even think about talking more.
The PZs knew Frankie was here. How had they found out? Was it something Kit had let slip? Had they realized who operated the drone or seen Frankie sneaking around the compound? Maybe Nabera realized why she’d been asking him questions. What if Obadiah had recognized her?
The reason how didn’t really matter, though.
Nausea churned her stomach. Was this why the cabins had been burned?
She paced in circles on the lawn. Think, Frankie, think.
If they knew Frankie was here, they’d know Kit had called her here.
Kit had a broken arm.
They beat Kit up to punish her.
“Oh, amica mia, I’m sorry.” The sick feeling in her stomach grew stronger.
If Obadiah planned to take Kit and Aric somewhere else, was it to kill her?
Fear buzzed in Frankie’s ears, drowning out the sounds of everything else.
Keep it together. She mustn’t panic. “It’s up to me.” But all of her backup plans would take time to implement.
She had the originals of the guardianship papers—in New York—but the same problems would apply. Even if she could get the cops here to move quickly, if they showed up at the gate, the PZs would simply eliminate Kit and Aric. If they attacked, well, a SWAT team, if Anchorage had one, would be up against a bunch of armed militia guys.
Everything would take too long.
Kit was out of time.
She stopped pacing and stared at the blue-green lake. Bull would help. She hadn’t wanted to involve him when she had other alternatives—because he’d have insisted on helping. Risking his life. And her plan would’ve risked only her. But now…
Now it was a woman’s and child’s lives, and Frankie had no way to get them out. She needed his help.
She headed across the lawn and saw him standing by his deck. Waiting. He would’ve seen she was upset…and he’d given her space.
He walked down the steps to meet her.
“Bull.”
He ran his hands up and down her upper arms, steadying her with just his touch. “Tell me, sweetheart.”
“I need your help. Lots of help.” She tried to slow her breathing. “Everything is a mess, and I think they’re going to kill my friend. Please help us.”
“Always. What do you need?”
Madonna, no wonder she loved him. “I have a friend who married a guy who is in the PZs and—”
“’Mano,” Caz called. He and Gabe walked up. “I gave Frankie a message from a PZ woman who had bruises and a fractured arm.”
“You…” Frankie frowned at the doc. “What about privacy?”
His mouth curled up. “Messages sneaked into my lab coat aren’t covered under patient confidentiality, and I am mandated to report suspicion of abuse to local law enforcement.” He tilted his head at Gabe.
“Do you want privacy—or assistance, bro?” Gabe asked.
“Could they be of help, sweetheart?” Bull motioned to his brothers. “They’re offering.”
Offering to help? Just like that? Her family wouldn’t have helped. “Really?” Hope bloomed inside her.
Bull glanced at his brothers. “Let’s talk at Mako’s place.”
“Yeah.” Gabe’s gaze dropped to the paper in Frankie’s hand. “This smells a lot like a goatfuck. Caz, leave Regan at your place, but fetch Hawk and JJ. I’ll get everyone else.”
As she and Bull walked across the lawn to Mako’s house, she tried to think—and was so incredibly grateful for the hard arm around her waist, the strength of Bull’s body against hers. He guided her to a seat on the sectional and sat beside her.
She remembered the last time she was here—when she’d served them the Italian meal. Somehow it seemed as if music still lingered in the air. She’d spent that night with Bull and all the nights since.
She reached up to touch his jaw. His muscles were tense. Was he… Oh, cavolo. “Are you wondering how much of what was between us is a lie?”
His eyes were black when he looked down at her. “I had a moment of concern.” His gaze softened. “But even though you didn’t trust me with everything, I don’t think you lied about how you feel about me.”
“I didn’t. I w-wouldn’t. I thought I could get her out of there on my own and not risk you getting hurt.” She blinked hard because…she knew, oh, she knew, how much it hurt to learn that love was a lie. Her voice came out a ragged whisper. “I love you. I do.”
“Shhh. I believe you.” He tucked her tightly against his side. “We’ll figure out what to do.”
In the next few minutes, the rest gathered. Gabe with Audrey, Lillian, and Dante. Caz brought JJ and Hawk.
Lillian took one glance at Frankie and settled beside her, taking her hand. “Now, love, what’s this mess we’re here to fix?”
The brisk question was like a crisp wind blowing away the cloudy fears.
Time to be clear and concise. Focus, Frankie. She drew a slow breath and started. “I have a friend, Kit, my bestie through college and after, and I’m godmother to her son, Aric. He’s four now. In Texas, she married Obadiah, one of the Patriot Zealots.”
Frankie rested her head against Bull’s shoulder, so very comforted jus
t to have him beside her. “I got a letter from Kit asking for help…” She continued to explain how she’d ended up in Rescue and how the children were held hostage to ensure their mothers’ cooperation. “Kit was terrified that the police or FBI would try to get into the compound and get into a battle and the children would get hurt.”
Gabe rubbed his chin. “Like the siege at Waco.”
“And Ruby Ridge,” Dante added. “She has a point.”
“Is Kit the person who is on my records as Kirsten Traeger?” When Frankie nodded, Caz motioned to the paper she still held. “What did the message say?”
Unable to say the words out loud, Frankie handed it to Bull. He read it, his jaw turning hard, then gave the paper to Caz.
“I saw Kit at the grocery when I first got here. We planned that I’d cut the fence behind the children’s barracks on a Saturday night. She’d sneak out with Aric, and I’d guide them out of the forest.”
“That’s how you got shot.” Hawk snorted and looked at Bull. “She’s gonna run you ragged.”
Bull sighed. “Yep.”
“It’s not like I wanted to get shot,” Frankie said. “I needed to locate the right trail and what guards might be able to see the barracks and—”
“The compound is huge, dear. You could circle it for hours without learning what you needed to know.” Lillian made a tsking sound.
“Actually, I’d already narrowed the location down to a couple of buildings near the east fence.”
“Had you,” Bull murmured. He tilted her chin up. “And how exactly did you do that?”
His face had the same expression as Nonna’s when her grandmother found Frankie playing with a scorpion. In fact, all of Bull’s brothers appeared dismayed.
Che palle, over-protective men. “I flew a drone over the compound and mapped part of it. There were children playing between two buildings. One of them would be the children’s dorm.”
“A drone.” Audrey grinned. “That’s really smart.”
“Have you got the photos?” JJ asked. “I’d like to see them.”
“I didn’t get pictures of the entire compound.” Frankie pulled out her new phone to flip through the photo gallery. Thank goodness she’d had everything backed up in the cloud. “They killed my poor drone. Shot it ri…”
The silence registered.
Oops.
Anger radiated off Bull’s powerful body like heat waves off a New York sidewalk in summer. More than enough to scorch a person.
Jumping up, she handed JJ her phone.
“Thanks,” JJ lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re in deep shit with the bull, I hope you know.”
When Frankie rolled her eyes, the cop snorted a laugh…and grinned.
Maybe Bull’s attitude was a touch insulting, yet his protectiveness warmed her more than the blanket he’d wrapped around her last night.
The patrol officer studied the phone’s photos and enlarged a portion of one. “I see the children outside the buildings. You called them barracks. Does that mean the women don’t live with their kids?”
“Kit said the women’s barracks is next door to the children’s. The kids have a matron in charge of their building.”
“That might complicate matters.” Caz turned to Gabe. “So, viejo, how’re we going to do this?”
Frankie clasped her hands in her lap, hope and fear mingling. Because, unlike with her plan, the rescuers would have to go into the compound. “You do know—obviously—that they have guns.”
“They have rifles, woman. I doubt they have artillery,” Bull said.
Dante shook his head. “Let’s hope not. Artillery would be bad.”
They were correcting her grammar? Frankie stared at the two idiots—who both smiled at her.
Beside JJ, Caz flipped through the phone’s photos. “We can get to the southeast fence and those buildings using the trail from Chevy and Knox’s land.”
Frankie nodded. “That’s the one I’d planned to use.”
“It goes past the corner watchtowers, though.” He handed the phone to Gabe.
Gabe’s brows drew together. “This is too small to see—”
“Eff-it-all, give me that.” Audrey plucked the phone from his hand. “I’ll run over to our cabin, download the photos, and enlarge the best ones.”
“Perfect.” Gabe pulled her down for a quick kiss. “You’re my favorite tech goddess.”
“I’m your favorite everything, Chief.” Audrey hurried out of the house.
“Rather than rescuing just one boy and woman, seems like we should get them all out,” Bull said.
“All?” Frankie held her breath. That would be wonderful.
“Hmm.” Gabe leaned back on the sectional and stared at the ceiling for a silent minute. “It has possibilities. Remove the children—as well as any women who want to leave—would keep the PZs from using them as hostages. Handing the victims over to the authorities would minimize the legal problems.”
JJ frowned. “We’ll want social workers as well as law enforcement involved. If a mother is brainwashed or pressured, we don’t want a child yanked back into an abusive situation.”
Picking her hand up, Caz kissed her fingers. “Sí. That will keep the children safe.”
Legal problems? Gabe and JJ were cops. Caz was a licensed health professional. Frankie chewed on her lip before asking, “Can we do this without breaking a million laws and getting you all in trouble?”
“We won’t break more than a handful or so,” Gabe said with a half-smile. “You can testify we have a reasonable belief that a child’s life is at risk. Do you still have the letter Kit mailed you, or did it burn with your cabin?”
“It’s in my office in New York. Safe.” She relaxed slightly.
“Getting out intact is going to be a problem though. Herding women and children through a dark forest will take time,” Bull said.
Dante nodded. “As Frankie pointed out, the PZs have guns.” Despite the teasing words, his tone was serious.
He was right. Frankie considered and said, “A diversion?” even as Bull suggested, “Let’s draw the sentries away.”
“Yes.” Gabe turned to Dante. “Could you round up some rowdy folks to create a diversion near their gate?”
“You betcha.” Dante smiled at Lillian. “We know just the people.”
Hurrying inside, Audrey laid an oversized map on the coffee table. “This is the best overall view of the compound. At least, most of it.” She set a smaller one next to it. “This one shows the buildings with the children. I’ll print off more for you, but these will get you started.”
“That’s perfect,” Caz said. “Just what we need.”
Audrey grinned. “I’ve learned how the old man likes to make plans.”
Gabe shot her a chiding look, then chuckled. “Thank you, Goldilocks.” He pulled forward the map that showed Dall Road and the turnoff to the PZ compound as well as the neighboring roads and cabins. His finger traced a route from the children’s barracks, through the fence, then southward along the east to two cabins at the end of a road. “That’s not an easy walk to Knox’s and Chevy’s, especially at night. We’ll need woods-savvy volunteers to escort the rescues out so we can fight a rearguard action.”
Rearguard action. She should have thought of that. The PZs would undoubtedly come after them. Frankie felt her spine straighten. They damn well wouldn’t get near Kit or Aric.
“Could get messy.” Hawk gave her a nod before leaning over the map. “I’ll move the helicopter to the meadow behind Chevy’s cabin. I’ll come in without lights, so light me up a landing spot.”
Madonna, they were all going to help her. She looked around the room. “Thank y-you.” Her voice cracked.
Lillian squeezed her hand. “This is what families do.”
“We have the helicopter for seriously wounded,” Caz said. “For the rest, I’ll load extra medic kits in my car.”
Medic kits. Helicopters for the wounded. Wounded.
Bul
l could die. His family could die. She could still feel the impact of the bullet hitting her arm, see the red pouring over her skin. “Bull.” His name came out almost inaudible, and she took his arm in her hands, trying not to shake.
There was no choice. This was the best plan to save little Aric. Save all those women and children. But the risk was… Guilt and fear and determination roiled together.
Caz was watching her. “I wondered how long it would take to hit her,” he said to his brothers.
Hawk’s snort sounded like a laugh.
Half-smiling, Gabe shook his head.
Bull lifted her into his lap and rubbed his cheek against hers. “Hey, it’s been far too boring around here. This’ll be fun.”
“Deficiente.” She yanked on his shirt to get him to listen. “You will be careful and take no chances. You will all be careful.”
Bull gripped her wrists, and his gaze turned serious. “There is always a danger of being hurt when on a mission, but we’ve wanted to go after the Zealots for a good while now. Thank you for the perfect reason.”
When she blinked in disbelief, Hawk moved his shoulders. “What he said.”
“Exactly.” Gabe smiled at her. “While we’re setting up, I’ll talk to the DEA and FBI. By the time their agents arrive, we should be back in Rescue with the women and children—and the PZs will have the feds to worry about. Now, let’s finish getting this planned out.”
Caz frowned. “They have dogs and wandering sentries.”
Frankie leaned forward and set her finger on a square. “Here, this is the corner watchtower guard that overlooks the area behind the women’s barracks.”
Hawk stretched his legs out and smiled slightly. “Watchtower’s mine.”
Before she could respond, Bull said, “Gryff and I might have an idea or two about the dogs. Gryff’ll want to play.” His dark eyes glinted with laughter.
Frankie shook her head. Mako must have had an…interesting…sense of humor because his sons seemed to have inherited it.
At Obadiah’s small prefab, Kit was trying to make his bed with one hand. Her right arm was in a sling and ached like…like a broken bone. God, it had hurt so much worse than when he’d snapped two of her fingers. Even more than when he’d broken one of her ribs. The memory, the sound of her arm breaking still echoed within her other bones, leaving a shivery feeling inside.
What You See: Sons of the Survivalist: 3 Page 26
