Sarah wasn’t there.
Nate and Zack left the first hide site, which probably hadn’t been used in years. The crypt covering it was unlocked. Inside, they’d found so many caskets, they had to move three outside to get to the trapdoor in the floor. Once they opened it, they found the hide site filled in with stone and debris.
It was raining steadily now, and they were both soaked. Nate had no idea what hour it was or how much time had passed since he’d woken to find Sarah missing. It felt like an eternity.
Zack used his forearm to wipe his face. His long, wet hair molded to his head. “Nate?”
Nate took a deep breath and ran. “This way.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, the next tomb on their list was locked. Zack blew the lock with his rifle, and the sound cut through the night. Nate and Zack went in, guns ready.
“Nate.” Zack motioned to the corner, where a metal ladder lay on its side.
Nate’s hands shook. She had to be here. He could feel it.
Another fired shot broke the lock on the trapdoor. The gunshot inside the stone room left a ringing reverb. He opened the door, but it was so dark he almost didn’t realize it was filled with water. “Sarah!”
No answer.
Zack brought the ladder over, and they dropped it in. Nate handed Zack his pistol and flashlight and went down. The rain had made him wet, but the water soaked his bones. His hands shook, and he could barely hang on. “Sarah!”
No answer.
Oh, God. No!
“Nate!” Ty ran in. “Down by the river. Behind us.”
Zack shifted, taking the light with him. “What?”
“We left the second hide site,” Ty said between coughs. “I saw a light.”
Nate came up, soaking wet, and took his weapon. “Sarah?”
“Maybe. Someone was carrying a body out of a creek.”
* * *
Nate ran out of the tomb and around. Maybe it was because his eyes had adjusted to the dark or the reflection of the rain on the white tombs or a combination of anger and fear making him desperate to see, but twenty yards away, he saw four people near the bank. The tall one was Cassio, who knelt over another, who was lying down and not moving. The hooded man-who-was-a-woman stood near Cassio with a flashlight, and a fourth person, Fletcher Ames, sat on a tomb, holding a penlight.
Nate stumbled down the ravine and pushed Cassio aside. Nate fell on his knees next to Sarah, who lay prone on the ground. “Sarah?”
He pressed his ear to her chest and exhaled in relief. She was soaking wet, her breaths were erratic and shallow, but she was alive.
Gently, even though he wanted to do it fiercely, he cradled her in his arms and held her close. Her eyes fluttered, but she didn’t open them.
“She needs rest,” the hooded man-who-was-a-woman said. “You need to take her away from here. Away from Savannah.” The woman, like the rest of them, was soaking wet. “My name is Isabel. I was a friend of Sarah’s mother.”
“Advice from the woman who stalked us and kidnapped Sarah?”
Who may have kept her from her birth father?
“I was helping Sarah. Her mother was my greatest friend, and I swore to her that I’d protect Sarah.”
“Know what that sounds like?” Nate’s laugh sounded like a bark. “Horseshit.”
Cassio placed a hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Passing judgment on things you know nothing about is a pursuit for lawyers and politicians, not men of honor.”
“I was there when Sarah was born,” Isabel said. “There when her birth father left her mother. There when—”
“I don’t care.” Nate cradled Sarah, wishing he had a blanket. He was as cold and wet as she was, and he’d nothing to offer her. “I’m taking her—”
“That’s not about to happen,” a man said.
Etienne?
The light shifted, and Nate turned to find Etienne holding Isabel, her back to his chest, a knife on her throat. She’d dropped the flashlight, and it had rolled away.
The tic above Nate’s eye started up again. “Let her go.” He’d no reason to protect Isabel other than his need to take care of Etienne for good.
Zack appeared. “Let me take Sarah. She may be hypothermic.”
Nate handed her over, and Zack hurried up the ravine.
Nate took off his jacket and threw it on the ground. His gun landed on top, and he kept his gaze on Etienne. “Cassio? I need a knife.”
Cassio handed Nate a hunting knife because the warrior understood. This was personal. It should be dealt with in a personal way. Knife to knife. Fist to fist. Man to man. “Let her go.”
Cassio took the flashlight and moved toward Fletcher Ames. That was another emotional landmine for another night.
Cassio kept the light on Etienne, leaving Nate in the shadows.
Etienne backed into the dense foliage, dragging Isabel. The light followed him as he limped. Had he been shot?
“Do you want to die slowly or quickly?” Nate asked.
“I’m not dying tonight.” Etienne halted, and Isabel gripped his arm. “I just want what’s mine. Asylum in exchange for the historian.”
“Working for Remiel not what you thought it’d be?” Nate nodded in Fletcher’s direction. “Remiel has a habit of turning on those closest to him.”
“Fuck Remiel,” Etienne said. “All I want is out of here!”
“You don’t deserve to be out of here,” Isabel said in a hoarse voice. “I know you shot at Sarah yesterday in the cemetery. You shot that banker from Charleston. You killed those cops behind O’Malley’s Pub. You even cut their hands with the letter B.”
“The situation in Boston wasn’t my fault,” Etienne sneered. “Things were going as planned until the fucking Fianna showed up. I had to kill those men.”
“And poison Joe?” Nate asked.
“No different than what Fletcher did to you.”
None of this mattered now. Nate had been approaching the entire time and had forced Etienne up against the creek bank, his shoulders barely fitting between two trees. Now all Nate needed was a diversion.
Nate steadied the knife in his hand and made a show of glancing over his shoulder. Except instead of moving forward with his plan, he paused.
At the top of the ravine, near the mausoleum, Sarah lay on the ground, both Pete and Zack covering her with jackets and rubbing her arms. Behind them were all of his men, many of whom were holding flashlights. Ty sat on a tomb next to Cain, who had his arms crossed. Pops and Grady carried their bolt-action rifles, while Jimmy and Garza had lanterns. Vane was on the far right, near Luke and Calum. Alex was so far on the left Nate almost didn’t notice him.
Kells stood in front, hands in the pockets of his field jacket, staring at Cassio.
Nate faced Etienne again. Now or never.
Nate threw the knife, and it hit the tree next to Etienne’s head. The surprise made Etienne jerk, allowing Nate to yank Isabel out of Etienne’s arms. Then he went for Etienne’s knees.
Isabel ran while Nate and Etienne both hit the ground. Nate ended up on top and punched Etienne in the jaw. Pain flooded his hands and knuckles. He pounded again.
Etienne threw a left hook and rolled away, protecting his left leg. Nate’s jaw throbbed, and he kicked Etienne in his wounded thigh. He howled and rolled down the bank even more.
Nate followed. It was darker here, but he heard a distinct whistle of a knife swinging. He jumped aside just as Etienne’s blade skimmed his chest, slicing his shirt. Then Etienne disappeared.
“Sarah is like Isabel. Like all women.” Etienne’s voice came out of the darkness. “She’ll betray you.”
Nate heard sounds off to his left, like heavy breathing. “Sarah will never betray me. She believes in me.” Even when he didn’t believe in himself. Her strength and bravery had taught him that.
Etienne came up fast, but Nate lowered his body and used his good shoulder to slam Etienne into a tree. Nate felt the reverb in his body. The terrain was slippery and dark. Normally not an issue, but since he’d been shot in the shoulder and hit in the jaw, everything hurt.
Needing to get out of the muddy ravine, he worked his way up the bank. Etienne followed with his knife out. Once on flatter ground, Etienne charged. Nate tripped on a root and fell onto his back. The air blasted out of his lungs, and Etienne straddled him. Nate saw the blade fly and grabbed Etienne’s neck with both hands.
Nate rolled until he was on top with his hands around Etienne’s neck. Etienne kicked and clawed at Nate’s fingers to peel his hands away, but Nate had self-righteous anger on his side and put all of his fury and frustration and fear into crushing Etienne’s neck. Etienne was a tough bastard though. He gripped Nate’s head and used his thumbs to dig out Nate’s eyeballs. Nate closed his eyes and pressed harder—until he heard a gunshot next to his head.
He fell off, covering his ears with his hands. The blast left him disoriented, deaf, and shaking. When he opened his eyes, Isabel was walking away, holding a gun against her thigh.
Cassio helped Nate up.
“Cassio.” Nate stumbled, and Cassio used his shoulder to prop him up. “What the fuck just happened?”
“Lady Isabel killed the fiend.” Together, Cassio and Nate limped to the tomb where Fletcher Ames had been sitting.
Except the fucker had disappeared, taking the penlight with him. Nate dropped to his knees. “Where the hell is Fletcher?”
Cassio clutched his side with one hand, his wide shoulders heaving. “I know not.”
Nate scanned the darkness. “Isabel is gone too. She and Fletcher must have taken off together.”
Cassio lowered himself to the tomb Fletcher had sat on. “They’ll return to Remiel, and we’ll meet them another day.”
“Why?” There were so many questions wrapped up in that one word. “Why did you save Sarah? Why didn’t you let her die like you’d threatened?”
“The Prince wants a willing recruit, not one who’ll harbor resentment.”
Cassio spoke true. If the Prince had allowed Sarah to die, there was no way Nate would ever willingly join the Fianna. “You’re letting us both live?”
“Her stopped heart paid the price.” Cassio shifted and winced. “The Prince only requires one death per lifetime.”
Her heart stopped? “How did you—”
“With hand to heart.”
CPR. Nate stood and picked up his coat and gun. Then he offered a hand to Cassio. “And Jack?”
Once Cassio stood, he said, “Your lord will be free from the death sentence.”
“And me? Do I go with you?”
“No.” Cassio started walking. “Since you’re not prepared to forsake the world, the Prince has decided you’ll return to your prison until you’re ready to join us.”
He wasn’t mature enough to be in the Fianna? Nate followed, not sure how to feel about that news and also unsure how to ask the final question. So he just said, “Sarah’s birth father?”
“A tale for another day.” Cassio put a hand on Nate’s shoulder and squeezed. “Come. Your brothers—and your love—await.”
* * *
Sarah felt herself lifted in strong arms and rested her head on a hard chest. She didn’t have the strength to wrap her arm around his neck, yet she smelled pine and summer breezes. She heard a fast but steady heartbeat and a whisper in her ear.
“Stay with me, sweetheart.”
Nate. She wanted to open her eyes, but she was cold and shivery. He walked while male voices floated around her.
Pete’s came first. “Seriously, dudes. Every woman we know is signing up for my self-defense class. This. Is. Ridiculous.”
“This is also why,” Vane said, “we need to retrain in all forms of hand-to-hand combat.”
“And primitive survival and orienteering skills,” Zack added. “With a side of trig.”
“Great,” Cain said. “Why don’t we all become Eagle Scouts?”
“Personally,” Garza said in his New Jersey accent, “I think you should all learn Latin and read Shakespeare. I can help with that.”
“How?” Ty said.
“I have a Masters of Letters degree. And if you don’t know what that is, you can ask Sarah when she wakes. She has one too.”
Sarah smiled, and Nate tightened his hold.
“Tomorrow,” Sheriff Boudreaux said, “after Garza and I deal with these bodies, investigations, and police reports, I’m shutting this cemetery down.”
“Good luck with that, son,” Grady said.
Pops harrumphed.
“Sir?” Luke asked. “Does this mean Nate still has to return to the prison hospital tomorrow?”
The men went silent, and after a long moment, she heard another new voice. This one lower, straining with confidence and power. “Yes.”