Eli itched to be on the move again. Since their earlier disagreement, he and Gena hadn’t spoken to each other unless it had been absolutely necessary. At least her silent treatment had given him a few precious hours to talk to his son.
His son. That phrase always jarred him. He both loved it and feared it. But Scotty was so amazing, each minute with the little boy was like a precious gift. A very precious gift from God—the best Christmas present.
Lydia would be proud, Eli thought as he once again stuffed his backpack full of supplies, then went over the mental list of everything he needed to do. If he could just get back to Louisiana, he’d be on solid ground again. He’d be able to sit down and figure out this thing. He opened the survival kit, touched a hand to Scotty’s picture, then slammed it shut again.
“It’s time to go,” he said as he turned to Gena. They’d found some children’s books in a basket by the fireplace and now Scotty was reading the story of the birth of Christ out loud to his mother. A normal scene—warm and cozy on most winter nights—but not tonight.
Gena glanced up at him, her gaze hinting at remorse. But just hinting. She wasn’t ready to call a truce with him. And could he blame her? He’d never been one for sweet words and gentle gestures. How many times had he been told that he was hard-hearted and cruel?
Too many. Except for Leah. Leah had seen right through him, had tamed him, made him want to be a better man. But his grandfather and CHAIM had changed that notion. And Leah’s death had only hardened his cold heart even more.
Don’t let your heart turn to mush now, he told himself. Don’t give in to that need. It would hurt too much. Way too much. He had to save his heart for his son. And that meant he’d have to forget about Gena. Get her to safety, get your son to safety. Then worry about the rest.
Gena bundled Scotty into his coat and hat. “All ready?”
Scotty nodded. “Where are we going now?”
She looked up at Eli. “I’m not sure. But soon, we’ll be back home.”
“To have our Christmas,” Scotty replied.
Eli squatted in front of his son. “Remember this afternoon when I told you all about Christmas back in Louisiana? It’ll more than make up for this.”
“Is that where we’re going?” Gena asked, coiling her wool scarf around her neck.
Eli eyed her for signs of disapproval. “I can keep both of you safe there.” He stood up. “And I do mean both of you.”
He saw relief and regret instead. “Eli, I—”
Before she could finish, they heard a motor revving and the squeal of tires as a vehicle whirled right up to the back door.
“Stay here!” Eli hit the window, a finger slitting the blinds. “That’s my truck.”
Before he could get to the door, a hulking figure rushed up the steps, then began beating on the wood. “Eli, open up. Now!”
Eli groaned. He knew that voice. “What are you doing here, Whelan?”
“I’ll explain later,” came the lilting Irish brogue. “Let me in!”
Eli motioned to Gena, then unlocked the door, opening it wide enough to reach out his hand. Grabbing the man by the collar of his fur-lined coat, Eli hauled him close. “Oui, for sure you have some explaining to do, Shepherd. Starting with what you’re doing here.”
The man facing him laughed out loud. “Well, Disciple, I’d say we have a lot to catch up on. And it’s a wee bit cold out here, so please let a bráthier in.”
Eli released the man, then yanked him through the door. “First, you’re not my brother. And second, talk fast because you do not want to get on my last nerve.”
The man waved to Gena and Scotty. “Hello, I’m Brice Whelan, better known as the Shepherd.”
Gena nodded. “Hello. What’s going on?”
Brice grinned at her blunt question. “Devon warned me about her,” he said to Eli. “Hear you’ve just about got your hands full.”
Eli backed him against the wall. “Talk, Brice. Right now.”
Brice sighed. “Relax, will you? CHAIM sent me to help you out of this sorry mess. Just load up and get in the truck and we’ll be on our way. I’ll explain everything. Time is of the utmost importance, understand?”
Eli lifted his backpack, then motioned for Gena. “Fine, but I’m driving.” Then he turned, a finger in the man’s face. “And don’t try anything, Brice, or I’ll dump you on the side of the road and leave you to freeze solid. I’ve had just about enough for one day.”
Brice chuckled again, brushing at his burnished golden-brown hair. “Devon said you were doing battle with several bad men and one pretty determined woman.” He shot Gena a charming Irish smile.
Gena stared him down, then glared at Eli. “Great. Two of you now. Can we just get out of here?”
“That’s exactly why I’m here.”
Brice bowed, all flourish and manners, while Eli silently promised to throttle Devon Malone next time he saw him. “We didn’t need any help.”
Brice followed him to the truck. “Devon thought you did. And we didn’t feel the need to ask how you felt about it.”
“Some things never change.” Eli helped Gena in the tiny back seat, then lifted Scotty up beside her. “We’ll discuss this later,” he told Brice.
“Who’s he?” Scotty asked, clearly fascinated with Brice.
Eli and Brice got in the truck, Eli at the wheel. Then he turned to his son. “Him? He’s a…coworker who runs a very…uh…nice retreat in Ireland. I lived there for a while.”
Brice grinned. “Ah, those were the days, weren’t they now?”
“Don’t remind me,” Eli said under his breath.
“Well, behave and you won’t have to…visit again,” Brice countered.
Scotty leaned forward. “You mean if you get in trouble, you have to go there for a time-out?”
“The lad’s very smart,” Brice said, slapping his knee.
Eli glared at him as he eased the truck out into the night. “Brice lives in a big castle by the sea. He runs the place. He gets a lot of visitors.”
“Tired visitors,” Brice added. “Visitors who need a good long rest in a peaceful secure place.”
“A castle with swords and knights and everything? I’d like to see that,” Scotty replied.
“Maybe one day you and your mother could come and visit Ireland. It’s a lovely land, but I’m afraid we don’t have knights in armor. Just regular men and women.”
Gena touched a hand to Scotty’s arm. “No more questions right now. Let them do their jobs, honey.”
Scotty sat silent for a minute, then said, “What kind of jobs are you guys doing, anyway?”
Eli shot Brice a warning glance. Brice shrugged. “Search and rescue, business development, research and marketing analysis, rebuilding, restoring, helping other people. Whatever is needed.”
“Shh,” Gena said when Scotty opened his mouth to ask yet another question. “Rest, honey. We’ve got a long way to go.”
“Aye, that we have, indeed,” Brice replied.
The truck roared along until they’d reached a major interstate and were headed south.
“We won’t be going all the way on this trip,” Eli told Brice. “That is, you won’t be going along for the entire trip.”
“How’s that?” Brice countered. “You’re really gonna throw me out?”
“I just might.”
Brice held a hand to his heart. “You pain me. I just got here.”
“Just tell me the plan,” Eli said in a hiss. “And then I’ll decide what to do with you.”
Brice hooted with laughter again. “Still got that biting sense of humor, I see.”
Eli didn’t smile. “You still smell like sheep, I see.”
“Do not. I bought new clothes just for America. And I had a nice warm shower with olive oil soap this morning.”
“Once a shepherd…”
“Now you’re just being downright mean.”
Eli cut his eyes to his so-called friend and fellow agent. “And don’t you forget it.”
Gena wasn’t sure whether to shout for joy or wail like a baby. Apparently, because her brother couldn’t come to her rescue and because neither Devon nor she could truly trust Eli, Devon had called in reinforcements. Brice Whelan was the exact opposite of Eli Trudeau. He was friendly, full of mirth and very open to talking about things when he wasn’t quoting poets and reciting Shakespeare.
Eli had gone back into his brute-force commando mode—that same mode her brother and her deceased husband had both used at times. Only Eli brought it to a new level with his grunts and his code talk.
Trying to remember what Devon had told her about Brice, she thought back over the little bit of information she’d learned on the need-to-know basis about Devon’s CHAIM team over the years. She knew there were about five or six of them—Richard’s code name had been the Lion, probably because of his golden-blond hair and his big-boned athletic frame. Richard had always reminded her of a Viking, come to conquer her. And she’d fallen for him hard.
Then there was her brother, Devon, who had that puzzling pastoral code name that everyone bemoaned. Yet it suited him. He was as still and steady as a country landscape at times. At other times, just like a landscape, he changed to become fast-moving and wild.
Then there was Kissie—the Woman at the Well—who lived and worked in New Orleans where CHAIM kept a safe house.
And now here was Brice—the Irishman who did indeed live in a big castle, at least part of the time. He had an American mother who lived in Atlanta and a base of operations there for his American enterprises. From what she remembered, the Shepherd really was a shepherd. He owned a sheep farm and worked hard as overseer of a big operation in County Kilkenny that produced some of the finest Irish wool in the world. Single, as were most of the team members when they’d started out, and just like the other members, he traveled all over the world to help Christians in need.
Did he think she was in need? Or had he come here to make sure Eli didn’t do anything he’d regret?
Right now, they were talking in code, so it was hard to tell what was going on in the front seat of the big double-cab truck. Scotty was asleep, so Gena leaned forward to hear more. Brice had quoted from Exodus, something about judgment.
“‘You shall put in the breast-piece of judgment.’”
Eli shook his head. “So I am being called forth to pay for my sins? Is that what you’re trying to tell me, Shepherd?”
Brice lowered his voice. “‘But you were full of judgment on the wicked; Judgment and justice take hold of you.’”
Gena had enough. Slapping the back of the seat, she made sure Scotty was asleep then said, “Okay, I get Exodus and Job references, and I know all about how you guys talk in Bible code. Eli, he’s trying to tell you that you once judged someone too harshly and now someone is coming after you with their own judgment. Am I right?”
Brice turned, mouth open, his head moving in confirmation.
Eli was more vocal. “Oui, tell me something I don’t know already. I tried to warn everyone. That’s why I came to this frozen tundra in the first place. I had to see for myself if the boy was safe.”
Brice turned toward Eli. “And that’s why I’m here. You were right. Between Devon and Kissie and myself, we’ve managed to piece together a bit of information.”
“And that is?”
Brice leaned back in his seat. “It does stem from that mess down in Rio Branco—”
Eli hit the steering wheel so hard that Gena jumped. “Will that episode haunt me for the rest of my days?”
“Probably,” Brice said, his tone practical and sure. “Can I finish?”
“Go on.”
Brice lowered his voice, but Gena could still hear him. “Your grandfather had some very wealthy cult members from all over the world. Some of them not too happy that we managed to bust up the cult and end things and some of them are still angry that their family members got caught up in such a vile operation.”
“So you think someone is coming after me—after Scotty—for one of those reasons?” Eli whispered.
Gena heard the implication of Eli’s question and remembered Eli’s version of the same conclusion. Someone wanted to take Scotty—Eli’s son—in order to get back at him. But who and why?
“Why would taking Scotty make things right?”
She didn’t realize she’d said that out loud until the truck became silent and she looked up to find Brice staring at her and Eli’s gaze on her in the rearview mirror. At least she hadn’t woken up her son.
Brice didn’t answer. He just looked over at Eli.
Eli let out a sigh, then said, “An eye for an eye.”
Gena’s heart fluttered in fear, recoiling from what Eli had already tried to tell her. “So this isn’t about some drug operation getting back on track. This is about revenge, pure and simple?”
Eli nodded. “Oui, could be. But not so pure and surely not so very simple. Whoever this is thinks I caused everything to fall apart. And as I’ve said over and over, I have reason to believe my grandfather Savoy got this ball rolling before he ever left this earth. He might have set up someone to take over if anything happened to him. And their first line of business—to make me suffer in the worst possible way.”
“That’s one theory,” Brice said. “Or…this could be someone still angry with the whole cult. And because it is no more, and because the Peacemaker has met his maker, that leaves Eli holding the bag, so to speak.”
Gena tried to draw a breath, but her throat muscles refused to cooperate. “That’s what you kept telling me.” She looked over at Brice. “So you came all this way just to confirm what Eli already knew?”
“I suppose I did, yes. And to offer my help.” Brice looked over at Eli. “Because in spite of his surly nature and his denial of needing any help, I grew very fond of the Disciple during our time together. And because I know he’d do the same thing if he were in my shoes.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Eli replied.
But his words were gentle this time and full of what Gena could only recognize as appreciation.
“What can we do?” she asked, refusing to think past the here and now, her eyes on her sleeping son.
Eli lifted his head. “We go to Louisiana so I can go through my grandfather’s records and hopefully find a clue that will help us decide who’s so intent on taking my son.”
Gena had to ask the next question, although just as with everything else they’d discussed, she was pretty sure she knew the answer. “And what will you do when you find this person?”
Eli’s dark look shot through the mirror as the interstate lights flashed past them. His answer was calm, deadly calm. “I intend to stop this person, of course. You have my word on that.”
Gena believed him. But at what cost? Eli was the kind of man who’d fight to the finish, CHAIM rules and regulations aside. He didn’t like following the rules.
And right now, Gena couldn’t help herself. She was glad he was that kind of man. For her son’s sake, at least.