CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE GUN FELL TO THE GROUND WITH A CLATTER. “HENSON WILL SEE you dead for this.”
With Skye back on her feet, her Glock zeroed in on the guard with the scarred eyebrow, Edge slid his knife back into the scabbard on his thigh. In seconds, they had the guy zip-tied, hand and foot, and solidly gagged. Edge dragged him behind the metal toolshed near the garden.
He glanced at Skye. “Go.”
Glock in hand, Skye urged Callie forward, and Edge fell in behind them. Someone must have heard something because an alarm roared to life, crackling through the air as if there were an escape from Folsom State Prison.
As Skye and Callie ducked through the hole in the fence, half-dressed men carrying pistols and AR-15s streamed out of their houses. With the guards down, the men had no idea which way to run and scattered like roaches around the compound.
The confusion gave them a few extra seconds, not much more.
Edge followed Skye through the fence, then took a position in the ravine to provide cover for her and Callie as they made their way back to the Yukon.
On the hill, Trace fired a series of covering shots into the compound. Edge fired several rounds and moved. Trace changed position, fired more shots, then shifted again, each time moving closer to the Yukon.
By the time Edge arrived, Skye was already behind the wheel, the engine running, Callie in the front passenger seat. Trace had backed the SUV in, so they were ready to roll, just waiting for the rest of the team.
“Get Callie out of here,” Edge said to Skye through the open window. “Head for Denver. I’ll wait for Trace, and we’ll meet you there.”
“No way!” Callie leaned toward him across the console. “I need to talk to the sheriff. I have friends in there. I promised I’d help. If we leave, there’s no way to tell what Henson might do.”
“We don’t know if we can trust the sheriff.”
“We have to try,” Callie argued. “I’m not going back until I talk to him.”
Edge glanced around. Time was running out. He could still hear distant gunshots. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll meet back at the motel. Give us ten minutes. If we aren’t back, forget the sheriff and head for the city.”
Skye’s sea-green eyes slid over his face, her worry clear. She didn’t want to leave him. Maybe it meant something. Maybe it was just a soldier’s honor—no man left behind.
“Get going,” he said.
Skye gunned the Yukon, and the SUV shot off down the dirt road. Edge moved toward the place designated as a secondary rendezvous point. He sent out a call through his earbuds, but got no reply. Time passed, turned into minutes. He could hear men’s voices as they searched the area, fanning out and moving closer.
He made several more attempts to raise Trace but got no response. He checked his black tactical watch. He’d give Trace another two minutes, then head out in search of him. Worry dripped acid into his stomach. Where was Trace? Had he been wounded? A few seconds later, he heard the hoot of an owl, soft but distinctive.
Edge breathed a sigh of relief as his friend rose up out of the shadows, sniper rifle in hand.
Neither of them spoke, just moved off together into the darkness, heading for their secondary vehicle, the Nissan, a low-slung, welcome black shadow awaiting their arrival.
Trace found a place for his weapon, and they both slid into their seats. Easing quietly down the narrow dirt track with the lights off, Edge picked up a little more speed, stretching the distance between him and their pursuers.
“About that guard . . .” Trace said, his features grim in the faint light coming from the gauges on the dash.
“You kill him?” Edge flicked him a sideways glance as they reached the wider dirt road that led away from the compound to the highway. He made the turn and pressed the accelerator.
“Not unless the shot scared him to death,” Trace said. “Upper chest wound. Should be survivable. I came damn close, though. I would have taken the kill shot if Skye’s sister hadn’t engaged with the bastard the way she did. Damned brave thing to do.”
“Or stupid.” Behind him, several pin-dots of light appeared in the distance, but no way was he letting them catch up. “Could have gotten herself killed.”
“She took the risk, changed the odds, and gave me another option. I figured it would cause less trouble if I just wounded the a-hole and ended the threat.”
The road was rough and bumpy, tough on the low-slung sports car. Behind him, the pin-dots of light in the distance held steady but made no visible gains.
“Shoot anyone else?”
“No.” Trace’s mouth tightened. “Not that they didn’t deserve it.”
Edge grunted. “That’s for sure.” The car fishtailed a little as he took a flat curve, and the lights behind him disappeared. Edge turned on his headlights and pushed the car faster, leaving Henson’s men in the dust. Literally.
If he didn’t get back to the motel in time, Skye would head for Denver. Or maybe not.
Edge pressed harder on the gas.
* * *
At the Trails West Inn, Skye and Callie loaded the rest of their clothes and gear into the back of the Yukon; then Skye moved it around to the back of the motel out of sight.
She checked her digital wristwatch. Time was up, but Edge and Trace hadn’t returned. Fear for them soured her stomach.
She glanced over at Callie, whose skirts swirled around her ankles as she paced the motel room. They needed to leave. Henson’s men could arrive any second. She needed to get Callie back to Denver, where she would be safe.
Skye walked over to the window. She didn’t want to leave, not until the rest of the team was safe. Not until Edge was safe.
She turned back to Callie. “We’ve waited long enough. Henson’s goons could show up any minute. Get in the car.”
Callie shook her head, shifting her long blond hair across her shoulders. The pale strands were covered with dirt and leaves, her long skirt dusty and torn.
“You hid the car,” she said. “There’s no way for them to know we’re here. I’m not leaving till I talk to the sheriff.” She walked over to the phone on the nightstand. “I’m calling him right now.”
“What if Akins is on Henson’s payroll? If he is, you could wind up back in the compound. Or both of us could end up in jail on some bogus charge. We’ll go back to Denver. I know police there we can trust.”
Callie’s eyes filled but her chin remained stubborn. “I’m calling him. I promised my friend. You can go back to Denver. I have to stay.”
Skye hadn’t told Callie about Molly or Sarah. There would be time for that once they were safe.
A car pulled into the parking lot. Skye ran to the window and saw Edge and Trace climbing out of the Nissan. Relief hit her hard. She opened the door and let them in.
“I see you two followed orders,” Edge drawled as Trace walked in behind him. “Not that I really expected you to.” His lips curved in a mixture of amusement and frustration, but she could tell he was glad she was still there.
“Callie’s determined to talk to the sheriff,” Skye said.
Edge nodded. “I called him. He’s meeting us here.”
Skye glanced toward the window. “What about Henson’s men?”
“They cut out before we got to town, turned around and headed back the way they came.”
Callie trembled as she sank down on the bed.
“It’s all right, Callie,” Edge said. “You’re safe. Your sister’s here, and we won’t let anything happen to you.” He turned. “By the way, I’m Edge, and this is Trace. He’s the guy who was up on the hill.”
Trace made a brief nod of his head. “Good to meet you, Callie. Nice work out there.”
Callie managed to smile, though her face was pale, her bottom lip cut and swollen, dried blood in the corner of her mouth. “Thank you both for your help.”
Lights filled the windows of the motel room, and Edge walked over to take a look.
“Sheriff’s here. Let’s hope he’s in the mood to hear one helluva story.”
Akins’s blond hair looked mussed, as if he had just rolled out of bed—which at this late hour, he undoubtedly had. Faint circles appeared beneath his light blue eyes.
It took an hour to relay the happenings at the Children of the Sun compound and answer questions about Daniel Henson, including the news that Henson was cooking meth.
“You should have let the police handle it,” the sheriff grumbled, clearly unhappy with their interference. “You could be facing all sorts of charges.”
“Henson was holding Callie against her will,” Edge said. “That’s kidnapping. Callie wanted out. We helped her get out. Any casualties suffered are on them.”
The sheriff eyed him darkly. Akins knew about the attack on Callie but not about Trace and the man he had shot. Edge didn’t figure Daniel Henson would be pressing charges anytime soon.
“You’re absolutely sure Henson’s manufacturing synthetic drugs out there?” the sheriff pressed.
“We’ve got drone footage showing the interior of the lab,” Edge said. “It’s a big one. The guy is making millions, and the longer you wait to go in, the better the chances he’ll rabbit.”
Akins pulled out his cell phone and started making calls. It would take time to put together a tactical team to raid the compound.
“What about the women?” Skye asked, worried about what might happen to them. “Is there a chance you could get them out first? Callie says none of the women are involved with the drug operation. Henson doesn’t allow them to go near the lab, and what Henson says is law.”
“I’ll have to take that up with the DEA. Their commander will be arriving first thing this morning.”
Edge hoped it wouldn’t be too late. On the other hand, Henson might not realize they knew about the lab. The women didn’t seem to know, so Callie wouldn’t be considered a threat. And Edge and Skye had made it clear they wanted Callie out of there. With so much drug money at stake, Henson might wait to see how things played out.
There was a chance the DEA would catch Daniel Henson with his pants around his ankles and bust the entire operation. But that was Akins’s business.
“There’s one more thing,” Skye said to the sheriff. “There’s a young woman. Her name was Sarah. A witness came forward who says Sarah was murdered when they caught her trying to escape. The witness gave us the location where the body is buried.”
Callie made a sound in her throat. Skye had told her about Sarah and that Molly had witnessed the murder, but the pain was still fresh.
“What’s the woman’s last name?” Akins asked.
“She was married to one of Henson’s men,” Skye said. “A man named Webb Rankin. She used his last name. That’s all we know.”
The sheriff’s blue eyes narrowed. “I want to speak to the witness.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Edge said. “The woman escaped the compound. She’s no longer in the area.”
Akins fell silent. Edge could almost see his mind working.
“I only have five deputies for the entire county. That’s not enough to tackle this thing head-on. Not if what you’re telling me is the truth.”
“It’s the truth, all right. Henson’s got a small army out there. The longer you wait, the better the chance he’ll get away. By now he could be on his way to Mexico.”
“The DEA is due to arrive in the next several hours. Until then, there’s nothing I can do.”
Edge didn’t argue because the sheriff was right. Even if Akins deputized the three of them, they wouldn’t have enough manpower to go against Henson’s soldiers. Not without casualties, some of which were bound to be women.
Morning couldn’t come soon enough for Edge.