Chapter Seventeen

Eric slammed his fist on the wheel. “I’ll kill him.”

Tiger thrust his head through the cage, uttering a concerned growl.

Watching that POS touch Tess had awakened a monster inside him, and all he wanted was to pound the bastard headfirst into the ground.

He yanked the gearshift into reverse, about to stomp on the gas pedal.

“Wait.” Dayne grabbed his arm, pointing to the mobile computer’s screen. “Look. You missed the good part. Your girl’s got a mean knee, and she knows how to use it.”

Through the haze of red fury, he managed to focus enough to see the asshole no longer had his arms around Tess, trying to mash his smarmy lips on her mouth. The motherfucker was doubled over in pain, and she was snatching up the pile of cash from the ground.

“Fuuuck.” Dayne chuckled. “I think she sterilized him for life.”

Two seconds before the pickup started backing up, the man raised his head, a vicious sneer curling his upper lip as he looked directly at the dash cam.

Eric pulled the laptop closer, staring at the image. Age and hard living had leaned out the man’s face to the point where he barely recognized him, but the camera didn’t lie.

“That’s Mark Pritchard,” he muttered, trying to process the full implication of the man’s presence in the middle of all this.

“Who’s that?” Dayne asked.

“Harley Gant’s right-hand man.” And the link he’d been looking for.

“No shit.”

“Actually, lots of it.”

As much as he was convinced Gant was behind the hit on him and his friends, Gant wouldn’t have dirtied his hands directly. The man was too smart for that. He would have ordered someone—Pritchard—to do the job for him.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins. Revenge was so close he could nearly taste it.

His gut had told him Gant was connected to those drums from the beginning, and now he had proof. Pritchard’s presence in New Jersey sealed that truth up with a bow. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to hold up in court. Guilt by association didn’t cut it.

As he watched Tess on the monitor, backing out of the driveway then shooting down the road, he drew his first easy breath all day.

Since the moment she’d pulled up alongside the barn, protective emotions had nearly gutted him. When the chopper had to land and he’d lost audio and visual, he wanted to blast out of the parking lot like a rocket ship on rails and pull her out of there. Now, knowing it had been Pritchard laying hands on her amplified those feelings by a thousand.

The man was a rapist—a child molester.

Like his friends’ murders, Pritchard’s crimes were never proven, but he’d gotten it straight from the Birmingham PD how many times the sick, twisted pervert had been hauled in for questioning in child sexual assault cases and how many times the charges had to be dropped because the victim either disappeared or her parents were seen driving around in a brand-new vehicle they could never afford.

Amped up by Eric’s agitation, Tiger began pacing back and forth on the bench seat, then stuck his head through the opening, pushing his wet nose against Eric’s neck.

He curled his hand beneath his dog’s chin. “I’m okay, boy. Easy does it.” Only he wasn’t okay, far from it. Tiger sensed the latent fury still lighting up his nerve endings and pulled back his head to resume pacing on the bench seat.

The pickup blew past them, heading south. Eric pushed a button and the screen went dark. With the chopper down during most of the meet, they hadn’t been able to monitor the delivery in real time, but they could review and listen to the video as soon as the devices were removed from the pickup. If any of the other men were in the system, they should be able to run facial recognition for an ID. They also had the tags from their vehicles.

Overhead, the sky continued clearing, and the chopper flew past.

“Subject vehicles are heading north on Sawmill Road,” the pilot radioed.

Eric clicked his mic. “Stay with them until ground units catch up. Units One, Two, and Three, move out.”

Three unmarked ATF sedans sped from the parking lot.

“You okay?” Dayne eyed him with concern, and Eric understood why.

Until today, he’d never lost his shit in front of his friend. Tess was the cause of it.

“Yeah,” he answered. Now, anyway. Now that she was driving safely away. At least her and Jesse’s part in all this was pretty much over. Good thing because he didn’t think he could take watching her in danger again.

Or seeing another man lay hands on her.

He cued up her number on his phone. They’d do a formal debriefing later. For now, he needed to check on her and hear her voice. Three rings later, she answered.

“Hello?” Her voice shook, which only exacerbated his guilt over putting her in the position in the first place. Didn’t matter that it was her idea.

“Are you all right?” he asked, not really seeing how she could be.

A pause, then, “Yes. I’m fine.”

The woman had guts. That was for sure.

“D-did you get all that?” Fear was evident in her tone.

Though she couldn’t see him, he shook his head. “The chopper was grounded, so we missed most of the transmission. We’ll review the full recording later.”

“Oh.” Another pause, then, “Eric, I need to tell you something. It’s important.”

“If you’re about to say you forgot to shut off the engine, I already know.” He’d realized that the moment she’d gotten out of the pickup. They hadn’t been able to hear a damn thing, but he didn’t blame her. She’d been nervous enough as it was. “We couldn’t hear much, and the recording will be just as bad. You’ll have to fill us in later on the conversation.”

“What?” She sounded shocked. “Do you mean there won’t be any sound on the video?”

“Nothing clear, anyway. The lab may be able to clean up the recording.” Now it was his turn to pause. It was clear she was more shaken by what had gone down than he’d first realized. “Tess, do you want to talk to someone about…” He could barely say the words, barely think them without seeing an angry red haze before his eyes. “About that man touching you? I can arrange for a female counselor if you need one.”

Her response came quickly. “No, don’t! I’m fine. I just need to see Jesse. I’m sorry about leaving the motor running.”

“Forget it. The main thing is the delivery was made and you’re safe.” That much was true. He couldn’t imagine what could have happened if she hadn’t gotten herself out of there. His guts twisted at the ugly images flitting before his eyes.

He uncurled his stiff fingers from around the wheel. “Dayne and I will be out for a while doing recon, so don’t wait up for me.”

“Okay. Bye.” She hung up.

Eric stared at the phone. She really would be waiting for him at home. The idea of her being there after he got off shift was… What? Nice didn’t begin to describe it.

He’d never had a woman waiting for him at his home before. The thought should have had him running for the hills, but it didn’t. It made him want the time before he walked in the door to fly by at light speed because he couldn’t wait to see her. To hold her in his arms and kiss away the ugly memory of what that a-hole had tried to do to her.

He turned to Dayne. “Up for a little sneak ’n’ peak?”

Dayne grinned. “Always.”

Minutes later, they were hoofing it down the side of the road, having left their vehicles in the school parking lot. The rain had all but ceased, and a strong wind had picked up, ridding the air of heat and humidity.

Tiger strained at the leash as they neared the driveway to the barn, an indication of ammonium nitrate vapors wafting in their direction. Dayne and Remy followed a few feet behind.

After verifying there were no oncoming vehicles, they turned down the driveway then took cover on the side of the barn facing away from the road.

“Zit,” Eric said then readjusted the heavy backpack slung over his shoulder.

Tiger sat, although his muscles quivered, a familiar sign that he wanted to charge right to the scent source.

Wind rustled trees, bringing with it droplets of water. For New Jersey, this was a fairly rural area, and the property was surrounded by trees on three sides, providing good cover. The only structure on the property was the barn. A mountain of rotten timbers stood where a house had once been.

Remy stood dutifully by Dayne’s side as his friend got to work picking the padlock on the barn door. Eric chuckled as he easily clicked open the lock.

He’d long ago discovered that Dayne was an expert at B & E. Only once had Dayne let something slip about his childhood, and it hadn’t been pretty. While Dayne hated talking about his past, Eric got the distinct impression that his friend’s ability to break into any room and crack any lock was tied to his childhood.

Quietly, Dayne slipped the chain from the barn door handles then slid one of the doors open.

“Hier.” Eric headed inside with Tiger.

The covert-entry—aka sneak ’n’ peak—warrant in Eric’s back pocket authorized them to access the barn without the owner’s permission or knowledge. They could conduct a search and even set up cameras, as long as they made no seizures.

When they were all inside, Dayne tugged the door shut. He and Remy stood guard, while Eric and Tiger got to work.

A window high in the barn’s dormer provided sufficient light to see the interior. The drums Tess had delivered sat grouped together at one end of the barn, while another drum was tucked in a corner on the opposite side.

Eric slid his backpack to the ground. Inside were padded cases containing three tiny high-tech cameras with power sources that would last up to a month and a transmitter box they would hide in the woods behind the barn. Agents stationed down the road in either direction would monitor the live feed 24/7. If the drums so much as twitched, they’d know in a heartbeat. He glanced around the barn, searching for the best places to surreptitiously install the cameras.

The barn’s floor was damp, a combination of wet earth and decaying hay and straw. Tiger pranced in place, swiveling his head left and right. Eric unhooked the leash from his dog’s harness. Tiger took off for the ammonium nitrate drums then sat in front of them.

“Braaf.” Eric gave his dog a hearty scrubbing on his neck for a job well done, then lifted his arm, urging Tiger to the isolated drum.

His dog shot to the other side of the barn, sitting almost immediately. Odors had to be pouring off that drum.

“Braaf.” Again, Eric pet his dog, this time giving him his favorite toy—a thick orange ball.

While Tiger enjoyed his reward, Remy gave a high-pitched whine.

“Steady, girl.” Dayne stroked Remy’s ears while his dog enviously watched Tiger chomping happily on the ball.

Even before he’d popped the bung on the drum, the strong odor of fuel came to his nose, and he grimaced, stepping back. There was no need to test the contents because he already knew what it was. He’d been expecting it and dreading it.

Moving swiftly, he recapped the drum. If there’d been any doubt as to what these people were doing, now there was none.

The drum contained nitromethane—another key component of an ammonium nitrate bomb.