Chris Hopper was doing all he could to mask his glee at watching Eric’s slow disintegration.
The guy was a tool, completely unfit to lead a security detail, much less this midnight jaunt through the woods. It was a near miracle that Bob hadn’t been killed outright when their idiot boss had stepped on that trip wire.
That right there should have ended this farce. Sometimes you just had to suck it up and admit you’d been duped. Mind you, the duping was already an exercise in incompetence – letting Jenner and his team slip away from right under their noses.
He didn’t like Yarlberg anymore than the rest of his teammates, but knew there was a good chance there would be some turnover when this was done. As the next most senior member, he could claim he’d done what he could, but by the time he’d been called in the situation had already been beyond help. Best of all, it was the truth. No sugar-coating needed. If pressed, he was pretty sure the others would back him up.
At the end of the day, Eric had no tact whatsoever. That was fine for a lone gig as a bodyguard, but for a state official’s security detail, it was intolerable. The man had made an enemy of Jenner and his people roughly thirty seconds after they’d met. It should have surprised exactly no one when he ran.
But instead they were out here, tromping through the dark woods with pretty close to zero chance of finding anyone who didn’t want to be found...
Or maybe not.
“I think there’s someone up ahead,” Eric called out in a harsh whisper. “Lights down and spread out. Let’s surround these fuckers and get out of here.”
Hopper spat in disgust. The moron was getting desperate. Probably heard a deer and suddenly got delusions of grandeur. Chances were they’d spread out and then have to spend the next hour finding each other again.
But that wasn’t his problem. Let his boss dig his own grave.
Hopper did as told, fanning out. He kept his light low, more to make sure he didn’t stumble over anything like his boss had, but his weapon remained holstered. No way was he going to be held responsible for accidentally shooting one of his own people. He intended to keep his nose clean for this one. When Eric inevitably returned empty-handed, Hopper was hoping the governor would see the wisdom in changing the guard.
And there would definitely be changes made under his leadership. No more acting like macho assholes just for the sake of it. He’d make sure they picked their battles like adults, not like testosterone-fueled teenagers.
He was still mentally rehearsing what he’d say in the private audience he planned to request with the governor, so was caught off guard when he heard what sounded like someone walking up ahead.
Idiots already got themselves turned around.
“That you, Sullivan?” he asked with no real sense of worry. Even if it wasn’t, what would happen? Despite the bullshit theories the governor had put forth, he didn’t think Jenner was out here playing government assassin. Of course, he didn’t buy the other man’s excuse of what had happened either.
Chances were the truth was somewhere in between: a bad accident or someone had screwed up. And now Jenner was out here trying to retrieve his friends’ bodies before the local wildlife picked them clean.
That made the most sense. It was unlikely that anything else...
“You ain’t Sarah.”
Hopper spun toward the voice, raising his flashlight. He caught a brief glimpse of a misshapen face – puffy, discolored, and with a massive overbite – before the light was yanked out of his hands.
He reached for his gun, but his shock had slowed him. Before he could unstrap the weapon at his side, a powerful hand reached out and covered his mouth. Hopper was forced back against a tree, as a knife – sharp as a razor – slid into his belly and emptied his guts onto the ground.
♦ ♦ ♦
Derek sensed something was wrong long before he saw it. It wasn’t so much what he heard as what he didn’t. The forest, loud and alive before now, had gone dead silent. No crickets, no birds. It was as if everything had retreated into hiding, hoping to remain unnoticed by whatever was occurring up ahead.
He held up a hand and this time, no one said anything. They’d probably all realized something was off on some level or another in the sudden oppressive silence.
No, not entirely silent.
He heard something from up ahead – the crackle of a branch, the crunch of leaves. There wasn’t enough of a breeze to be doing it. He immediately discounted any wildlife, as they seemingly had enough sense to lay low.
More movement, this time from a different location – even accounting for any sound distortion playing tricks with his senses. Derek hunkered down low, motioning for the rest to stay where they were. Then, as quietly as he could, he sucked up the pain from his injuries and slowly crawled past some bushes to get a better look ahead.
He was on a small rise, affording him a slightly better view through the trees than he might otherwise have – or it would have if it wasn’t so dark. He was about to look through his rifle’s night scope when he spotted several lights among the trees ahead. They were all held low, but Derek got the impression of two opposing lines converging on each other.
He raised the scope to his eye for a better look and began to scan for signs of movement.
It was only a few seconds before a head appeared above the bushes. Whoever they were, they weren’t dressed for the outdoors. Between the distance and the foliage, it was hard to tell, but he could have sworn he saw a tie hanging from the man’s neck.
Shit! Did that idiot Zeist actually follow us out here?
Derek wasn’t able to ID the man, but there didn’t seem to be any other explanation. Who else would be out here dressed in a fucking suit of all things? Zeist must have come looking for them upon noticing them missing. He hadn’t even bothered to stop and let his people properly outfit themselves first.
It was the height of stupidity, but then, the guy’s boss wasn’t exactly a paragon of logic and practicality. He sincerely doubted the governor possessed the patience for a proper manhunt.
Derek realized he should have been grateful for that. With him slowed due to his injuries, that left Mitch as the sole member of the team who was both fully mobile and capable. Had Yarlberg sent experienced men after them, they would have had little trouble catching up.
It was fairly easy to surmise that Zeist was probably tracking them via the GPS coordinates that had been previously shared. Reasonably smart, but easily anticipated.
He was just about to lower his scope and return to the others when more movement caught his eye – something in the bushes just north of the man’s position.
Heeding his gut, he zoomed in on that spot, hoping it was nothing more than an animal. But then Derek saw a large man step from the bushes, a rifle slung behind his back and a machete in hand. The arm wielding the blade was lumpy and misshapen, as was the rest of the man’s body. There was no doubt in Derek’s mind. It was one of the Lesterfields and he was trying to flank Zeist’s man.
No, not trying. The security agent appeared to have no clue he was being stalked. Derek watched in mute horror as the agent’s would-be murderer came up behind him, moving deliberately but quietly as well.
The misshapen man’s profile was to Derek. He lined up the side of his head in his crosshairs, but then hesitated. Shooting him would save the life of one of Zeist’s men, but it would give his team’s position away, and he doubted this was the only member of the Lesterfield clan out in the dark woods this night.
But why?
He could understand Zeist and his people being out here, but why the Lesterfields? Surely their booby traps could dissuade a group of unwary trespassers. Was this typical behavior of them, patrolling their territory after dark?
Derek considered the two lines of lights converging on each other. There was a deliberateness to it. Had the Lesterfields been aware of the incursion, much as they’d been when Derek and his team had first gone in? Or were they out here for a different reason?
Was it possible that his friends were not only alive, but one or both had managed to give those bastards the slip?
It seemed too much to hope for.
But if so, then it would be in Derek’s best interest to remain unseen, so as to slip past both groups and search the surrounding woods for Danni and Francis.
The mutated son of a bitch was nearly upon Zeist’s man. Another few seconds and it would be all over. If done right, the victim wouldn’t even have a chance to scream and alert his teammates.
But then Derek remembered his hesitation to pull the trigger when the devil had spoken to them. It had resulted in them being caught unawares. In showing mercy, he’d potentially doomed his friends, and in doing so again, he’d likewise be responsible for the death of another man. Zeist was an asshole so far as he was concerned, but that didn’t mean his people should die.
That settled it. Derek centered his shot, let out a breath, and squeezed the trigger ... unleashing death into the surrounding woods, as well as the chaos that would follow.