Simone fumed as the guard pushed her and Leslie into what they considered the mess tent. A larger tent than most of the others, save the one Marcus occupied, with several tables and benches arranged atop an earthen floor. A camp stove and food supplies sat off to the side.
“You heard the boss,” the guard growled. “Make us some chow.”
Simone faced the man. “How am I supposed to make anything with my hands tied behind my back?”
She needed him to free her hands. Then she’d be ready to act if an opportunity presented itself. The longer they stayed here, the more uneasy she grew. She didn’t like this situation. There were too many variables at play.
He smirked. “Figure it out.” He strode away and stood by the door. His malicious gaze bore into hers. His hands had a firm grip on the AK-47 strapped across his body.
“I’ve got it.” Leslie picked up a serrated steak knife. “Turn around.”
Simone presented her back. Leslie sawed through the ropes until they gave way. Relief and pain mingled as Simone rolled her shoulders, groaning as the muscles protested the prolonged position they’d been forced into. She did a few stretches as she assessed the situation. Cutlery could be useful. Heavy pots and pans would make good weapons. The tent had only one opening, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t another way to escape the makeshift mess hall.
“Hey! Food. Now.”
The guard’s sharp tone sent a shaft of irritation slithering across Simone’s flesh. Throwing a scathing glare over her shoulder, she tugged Leslie closer to the camp stove and turned her back on the man. Beneath her breath, she said to Leslie, “We need to get out of here.”
“Agreed. But how?”
“You create a distraction to get our guard over here. Then I’ll neutralize him.”
Leslie slanted her a glance. “Neutralize?”
Simone made a face. “Render him unconscious. I’m not looking to kill him.”
“Good to know. I understand you’re ex–law enforcement.”
“Shh.” She picked up a can of baked beans and pretended to examine it. “They think I’m Ian’s girlfriend.”
Leslie cast a look at the guard then met Simone’s gaze. “Right. Do what you need to, but if it comes to kill or be killed, don’t hesitate.”
Simone gave her a grim smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t. The same for you.”
“We need to make a show of getting something put together here.” Leslie grabbed a large bag of oatmeal. She pointed to the back of the tent where several gallon jugs had been stacked. “Let’s get some water boiling.”
Working together, they filled a large pot with water and set it on the camp stove to boil.
Remembering what Kaitlyn had said about Daniel and Leslie having a history and questioning their ability to work together, Simone asked in a low voice, “What’s with you and Daniel? I had the impression you two didn’t get along.”
Leslie snorted. “We grew up living next door to each other.” She measured the oatmeal.
“Ah. Childhood rivals,” Simone said.
“Something like that until it wasn’t. Or, at least, so I’d thought. He took me to our senior prom then ditched me to go hang with his buddies. It was humiliating.”
“Ouch.”
Leslie shrugged. “Whatever. I’m over it. We’re colleagues, nothing more.”
Not sure she was buying Leslie’s statement, Simone moved to the end of the table, pretending to search through the food supplies, waiting for Leslie to create the distraction that would afford her an opening to take the guard down. Suddenly a shot rang out from somewhere in the camp, jarring Simone to her core. Her eyes jumped to the man. “What happened?”
The guy smirked. “Probably your friends trying to escape.”
Anguish flood her chest. Had they killed Ian? Or Daniel? Her heart cried out in protest. A prayer rose on her lips. “Please, no.”
Leslie planted her forehead in her hand. “Oh, Daniel, what did you do?”
The torment in her tone tore at Simone. “Why do you think it’s Daniel?”
Leslie lifted her head, her eyes filling with tears.
“Because he’s a hothead. There’s no way he’d comply with these guys.” She wiped at her tears. “He’s been the bane of my existence since I was a kid. If he got himself killed, I’ll...” She spun away, her hands fisted at her sides.
Apparently, the woman’s feelings ran deep despite her assertion that she was over him. Stepping closer, Simone put a hand on her arm. “Don’t think that way. It could just as easily be Ian.”
Simone’s heart heaved at the thought of anything happening to him. Not only because he was her job but because she cared for him. Her heart had become involved. Something she’d never expected when she’d arrived in Colorado. And she couldn’t find any regret in letting herself become emotionally involved with the man she was protecting. A sense of urgency raced along her limbs. She needed to find Ian. Now. “Let’s hurry. The distraction?”
“Out of the way.” Leslie moved so that she faced the pot of water and then purposely toppled it over with a yelp. Water poured into the dirt, steam rising.
The guard ran over. “What did you do? You clumsy—”
Simone came up behind the guard and slid her arm around his neck, cutting off his words. She braced his head with her other hand at the back of his neck so he couldn’t squirm out of her grasp.
Leslie grabbed hold of the rifle strapped to his body and pried his fingers off the weapon. The man thrashed, trying to twist away from Simone, kicking at Leslie. But Simone held on until his body went limp and then she eased the unconscious man to the ground.
Leslie quickly undid the straps holding the rifle and hefted it in her hands.
Simone grabbed the SIG-Sauer from his hip holster. “Come on.”
Before they could take a step, the flap to the tent flung open and the second in command—the guy named Joe—ran in. He skidded to a halt, his eyes wide.
Simone and Leslie both trained their weapons on him.
With his hands in the air, he said, “I’m on your side.”
“Right,” Leslie said. “You’re just holding us captive, that’s all.”
Another guard charged into the tent and aimed his AK-47 at the two of them.
Simone’s stomach clenched. Somebody was going to die. She just prayed it wasn’t going to be her or Leslie. “Put down your weapon,” she ordered.
The man with the rifle scowled. “No, you put your weapons down.”
Joe backed up a step. “I’d listen to them if I were you,” he told the man.
“No way.” The guard adjusted the rifle.
Leslie’s finger moved to the trigger of the weapon in her hand. Simone braced herself for gunfire.
Joe sighed. “Have it your way.”
In a move that startled Simone, Joe swept the guard’s legs out from beneath him and, almost in the same move, grabbed the man’s hand and yanked it from the trigger of the rifle strapped to him. He then delivered a blow to the guy’s larynx. The guard clutched at his throat. Joe relieved him of the weapon, turned the guy onto his stomach and glanced over his shoulder. “A little help here. There are zip ties in my jacket pocket. There’s duct tape on one of those tables over there.”
Blinking in disbelief, Simone exchanged a startled glance with Leslie. Wary of this unexpected development, Simone gave a nod. Leslie hustled to the table and searched the supplies, returning with a roll of duct tape. Simone found the zip ties in Joe’s pocket. She quickly bound the man’s feet and his arms behind him. Leslie tore off a piece of duct tape and placed a strip across the guard’s mouth.
“Do the same to that one,” Joe said with a chin nod toward the man lying on the ground unconscious.
Simone and Leslie quickly bound and gagged the man.
Noise from behind them had Simone pivoting, the SIG coming up.
Leslie gave a small gasp as Daniel stepped through a hole he’d cut in the back of the tent. Shoving the automatic weapon into Simone’s hand, she rushed across the tent floor. “What did you do?” She flung her arms around his neck. “You scared me.”
The deputy’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. Then he grinned. Grasping Leslie by the shoulders so that he could look into her face, he said, “Did you doubt for a second that I wouldn’t get away and come looking for you?”
“What happened? Who fired their gun?” Simone asked.
Joe and Daniel exchanged a glance.
“Let’s just say the guard and I had a disagreement,” Daniel said.
“You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” Leslie said.
He cupped her face. “Never. I needed to rescue my damsel in distress.”
She slugged him, but the effort looked halfhearted. “What am I going to do about you?”
Daniel kissed her.
Simone was glad it turned out well for those two, but they weren’t out of trouble yet. Any second now, more guards could come inside the mess tent and they’d all be dead.
“You’ve got to get out of here,” Joe said.
Simone stared at him. “Who are you?”
“Joe Carlucci, ATF.”
Realization dawned. “That’s why you seemed familiar,” Simone said. “I’ve worked with your brother, Anthony.”
Joe smiled. “Yes, you have, Simone Walker. I recognized you the minute I saw you. You helped Anthony rescue his now wife when she was kidnapped.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I was undercover. We needed to know what this militia was up to.” His lips twisted in a wry scowl. “But now...” His gaze went to the still-conscious man currently staring daggers at him.
Simone groaned. “Sorry we blew your cover.”
Joe shrugged. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. I didn’t know Marcus was going to sabotage Delaney’s helicopter until after the fact. If I’d known, I would’ve stopped it.”
There was nothing to be done about the past. She was thankful Ian hadn’t been killed. “Do you know what this is all about?” She made an encompassing gesture toward the camp.
“A training center for Irish militants,” Joe said.
As Ian had suspected. “I mean...why are they targeting Ian Delaney?”
“Marcus has some kind of beef with the Delaney family. But he’s keeping the details close to the vest. Though—”
Daniel and Leslie joined them, interrupting Joe. “So, what’s the plan?” Daniel asked.
“You three need to get out of here and bring back the cavalry. I’ll do what I can to make sure Delaney stays safe,” Joe said. “The horses are tied up east of the camp.”
Simone shook her head. “I’m not leaving without Ian.”
“There’s no way to get to him,” Joe told her. “Not without alerting the whole place.”
“Then you’ll have to distract the camp,” she told him.
“As soon as somebody finds these two, I’m toast,” Joe said. “I’ll be leaving ASAP.”
“Then we better make sure they don’t find them,” Daniel said.
“We can drag them outside and hide them in the woods,” Leslie said.
Daniel grinned at her. “Good idea.”
“I have them occasionally,” Leslie quipped. There was no mistaking the tender affection in her eyes.
Their bantering reminded Simone of the way she and Ian were together when not dodging bullets. And it made her heart ache. She had to find a way to rescue him.
“Simone, grab his legs,” Joe said, referring to the conscious guard.
Grasping the man by the ankles, she lifted while Joe got beneath his arms. They carried him, bucking and squirming, out the back of the tent. Leslie and Daniel transported the unconscious guard the same way. They took them about sixty feet from the camp and sat them on the ground, their backs up against a lodgepole pine. Using the duct tape, Joe bound them to the tree.
“Find branches and leaves and whatever we can use to cover them up. That will buy us some time.”
Once they had the men camouflaged, Simone turned to Daniel and Leslie. “You two take your horses and go for help.”
“What are you going to do?” Leslie asked.
“I’m going to find Ian and get him out of here.”
“We should back you up,” Daniel said.
Simone shook her head. “We need to split up. Do you still have that knife you used to cut the back of the tent?”
Daniel retrieved the hunting knife from his waistband. He held the handle out to Simone. “I don’t like leaving you behind.”
Leslie put her hand on Daniel’s forearm. “The smarter play is for us to get help.”
It was clear the man wanted to argue with her, but then he nodded. He looked at Simone and Joe, his expression grim. “Don’t get yourselves killed before we return.”
“We don’t intend to,” Simone retorted.
Daniel and Leslie hustled away.
Simone turned to Joe. “Do you think you can distract Marcus long enough for me to free Ian?”
“You know it.”
“Then let’s make a plan.” If it was the last thing she did, Simone was going to make sure Ian got away before Marcus decided to kill him.
Ian’s heart pumped in his chest as the echo of a gunshot lingered in the air. “What happened?” he demanded of Marcus.
Marcus shrugged. “Maybe one of your friends decided not to play nice.”
Ian sent up a silent, fervent prayer. Please, Lord, don’t let Simone, Daniel or Leslie be dead.
He tested the ties holding him to the chair as Marcus paced. At least his hands weren’t strapped behind him in an awkward position any longer. “What is it you want?”
The man stopped pacing. “You seriously don’t know who I am?”
“I don’t,” Ian said. “If we met sometime in the last week, then I’ve forgotten you.”
“Let’s try about twenty years ago.”
Ian tucked in his chin. “Twenty years? I was at boarding school in Switzerland. You were there?” He did not remember this man being one of his classmates.
Marcus snorted. “Your mother’s funeral.”
Confusion and outrage twisted in Ian’s chest. “You were at my mother’s funeral?”
In the days leading up to his mother’s death, Ian, Nick and his father had sat by his mother’s side. She’d been fragile, weak but so brave. Her last words of love still resounded in his memory. By the day of the funeral, Ian had been blind with grief. The service and memorial afterward were a blur.
“Yes, I was there.” Marcus moved to a makeshift dresser and picked up a small framed photo.
Curiosity itched at Ian. He couldn’t see the image on the picture. “Why?”
Setting the frame facedown, Marcus resumed his pacing. “You’ll have to ask your father. That is, if you live long enough to see him again.”
Ian couldn’t fathom why this man, who would’ve been fifteen, like Ian, at the time, would attend his mother’s funeral. “What is the connection between our families?”
Marcus stopped, his fists clamped at his sides. “We’re done talking about this. Joe was right. We have to move. As soon as the sheriff realizes the deputy and you are missing, men will come looking. This is all your fault. You shouldn’t have gone snooping into things that were none of your business.”
“This has to do with the Dresden Group files.” Ian tried once again to recall what he’d been looking at that day. What in those files threatened Marcus and his operation? Ian thought about his conversation with Simone when they had been tied to the tree. He narrowed his eyes on Marcus. Dread crimped his chest. “Are you with the New IRA?”
Marcus swung his gaze to him. “There is no such thing.”
“Yes, there is.”
Over the years, there had been bombings and attacks perpetrated by the extremist group throughout England and Northern Ireland. Yes, there had been a truce called in the late nineties, but those dedicated to the cause had gone underground. And with the world economy the way it was going, Ian had no doubt the paramilitary group would take advantage and try to liberate Northern Ireland from British rule once again. “You’re training men here to send back to Ireland and using my company to do it.”
Marcus sneered. “Your company.” He spat on the tent’s dirt floor. “There’s a lot your father hasn’t told you.”
Ian would have to deal with his fear and worry that his father was somehow involved with this militia later. Right now, he needed as much information as he could get. Because if he escaped this situation, he was going to make sure he didn’t forget any of it. “Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on? It would save us both a lot of time.”
Before Marcus could say another word, the tent flap flung open and Joe ran inside. “There’s a problem at the mess tent. You better come.”
Had something happened to Simone? Ian’s stomach dropped. Joe met his gaze with a look that Ian didn’t know how to interpret. “My girlfriend? Is she okay?”
Without answering, Joe turned back to Marcus. “Are you coming?”
Marcus barely spared Ian a glance as he rushed out of the tent with Joe.
Desperate fear had Ian pulling against the restraints with such force that the chair toppled over. He landed hard on his shoulder, the pain reverberating all the way to his teeth. A noise from behind raised the hairs at the base of his neck. Alarm twisted in his gut. He craned his neck, trying to see what was coming. The sound of pounding footsteps had him bracing for a blow.
And then Simone was there, kneeling at his side and using a knife to cut the ties binding him to the chair.
He scrambled to right himself and grabbed hold of her shoulders to make sure she was real. “You’re okay? I thought something had happened to you. Joe said there was a problem in the mess tent.”
“A distraction.” She pulled Ian to his feet and held on to him as the blood rushed to his head. “We’ve got to go.”
He cupped her face with his hands. “I thought I’d lost you.” And the realization that he was well on his way to falling for this woman had his heart beating in his throat.
She nuzzled his shoulder for moment. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Grabbing his hand, Simone tugged him toward the back of the tent. “Come on. We have to leave before Marcus realizes what’s happening.”
They slipped through the hole she had cut in the tent and ran into the forest away from the camp.
“We should go uphill toward the resort,” he said.
“No, they will expect that.” She shoved something into his hands. “We’re going here. We have to give Daniel and Leslie time to bring back reinforcements.”
He looked at what appeared to be a crude drawing of a map leading to a stick-drawn structure. “A cabin?”
“No, a hunter’s lean-to. Joe said to head there.”
“What’s with this Joe character? You trust him?”
“He’s undercover ATF,” she said.
Dodging the branch of a tree, Ian asked, “How do you know for sure he’s telling the truth?”
“His brother worked with us a few years back. That’s why he seemed familiar.”
They made their way deeper into the trees. The thick canopy overhead obscured the sun, leaving the forest in shadowed gloom. He was thankful it was early fall rather than winter and they didn’t have to contend with snow.
The sound of men shouting echoed behind them. They were being pursued. Was the ATF agent still alive?
Simone pulled him against a tree. “They’re close.”
He nodded, his arms holding her tight as he listened.
“They’re tracking us,” she said.
Her grim tone had anxiety racing along his limbs. “What now?”
“Joe said there’s a creek we have to cross. We need to get to it.”
Pushing away from the tree, Ian gestured. “Lead the way.”
He followed Simone through the forest, the branches tearing at his jacket. Exposed roots caught his feet, making him stumble in his haste. They broke through the tree line to a small creek with sandy shores.
“Perfect.” Simone slipped off her shoes. “Take your shoes and socks off and roll up your pants.”
Ian stared at her. “We’re going to cross the water? Shouldn’t we follow the creek to civilization?”
Rolling her pant legs to above her knees, she said, “We need to get to the other side and then head to the lean-to. That’s the plan.”
He watched the water rushing over the rocky bottom. “It will be freezing.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Are you questioning my judgment?”
There would’ve been a time not too long ago when he would have balked at her directive. But she’d proved to be trustworthy and competent. He had to trust she knew what she was doing.
Slipping off his shoes, he said, “Not today. Let’s get out of here.”