Which might prove to be a problem. Seth was bunkered down in the house and Ryker didn’t exactly relish breaking in.
He sat back against the rough-hewn boards of the tree house. How could he get Seth to come out of the house? He snapped his fingers as an idea came to him.
A diversion.
Digging into the front pocket of his black jeans, he pulled out a lighter. He’d never smoked but had learned that they were handy devices when you needed to start a fire in the woods.
Or, in this case, a small fire to draw Seth out of the house.
The minutes dragged by slowly, turning into one hour, then two. By seven o’clock, the normal brightness was dimmed by the dark clouds accumulating overhead. Thanks to the impending storm, he was able to make his move earlier than planned.
After leaving the tree house, he made his way to the garbage and recycling bins sitting curbside a few doors down. Rummaging in the recycle bin provided him with discarded newspaper.
Moving slowly and quietly, he once again went through the unkempt yard to the rear of Seth’s house. Crouching behind the bush, he could see a tiny bit of light around the blinds of the kitchen window.
He looked for a vent that might lead inside. A dryer vent, maybe? There wasn’t one anywhere in sight. After agonizing for several minutes, he made a quick dash to the back door.
There was a screen door covering the interior one. Twisting the handle, he found it wasn’t locked, although the inside one was.
He found a large rock and used it to prop open the screen door. Then he balled the newspaper and set it on fire.
Stepping back from the door, he pressed himself against the side of the house and waited. The scent of smoke was strong, but he couldn’t be sure any of it was actually getting inside.
But his patience was rewarded when the door abruptly opened. “What in the world—”
Ryker jumped over the burning paper, which was quickly becoming nothing but ashes, forcing Seth backward into the house.
Having been caught off guard, Seth tried to fight. He swung at Ryker, but Ryker slid to the side and grabbed Seth’s arm, pulling him off-balance. They tumbled to the floor, Seth continuing to struggle. But Ryker had a position of strength, not to mention sheer determination. He had to find out what the Blake-Moore Group wanted with Olivia.
Finally, he had Seth pinned to the floor. “Tell me what I need to know and you’ll live to see another day.”
Seth glared up at him, his mouth pulled into a grim line. He didn’t say a word, which wasn’t unexpected.
Each of the mercenaries he’d come up against so far had been the exact same way. Too well trained to talk, to rat out their comrades. Unless they happened to be semiconscious.
Ryker was tired of the act.
Thunder boomed overhead and within moments rain began to fall. He was glad to know the fire he’d started would be out soon.
“You won’t talk? Fine, just listen. I was one of the men who helped take down Tim Habush and Colin Yonkers. You want to be next? Fine with me. But you should know that we’re onto Kevin Blake and Harper Moore. They’re not going to win this thing, do you understand? We will not stop until we take them down.”
Still nothing. With an abrupt move, Seth tried to twist out of Ryker’s grip, but he’d been expecting it, and managed to stay on top, tightening the pressure.
“There’s an innocent pregnant woman and child in the middle of this mess. Do you really want to be responsible for their deaths? A pregnant woman and her baby? A three-year-old boy?”
Something flared in Seth’s eyes and Ryker felt certain the news of Olivia’s pregnancy had caught the guy off guard.
Good. He needed something, anything to convince the man to talk.
“Why are mercenaries from Blake-Moore coming after Olivia Habush?”
No response.
“What possible threat could a pregnant woman be to their organization?”
Still nothing, but again the flicker in Seth’s eyes betrayed the fact that Tim’s cousin hadn’t known about the baby.
Maybe there was at least one line the mercenary wouldn’t cross.
“I have all night, Willis. I’m not leaving until I get what I want.”
Seth glanced away, focusing on some spot behind Ryker’s ear. He hoped and prayed the slight movement meant the guy’s resistance was weakening.
He really didn’t want to be here all night.
“Are you worried about Blake-Moore seeking retaliation against you? I can help you get away from them. I happen to be on a first-name basis with Senator Rick Barton and he has friends in the FBI. I’m sure we can arrange protection.”
Seth’s eyes met his briefly, then slid away, staring blindly at the same spot behind his ear.
“It’s your funeral.” Ryker lowered his voice in a tone that he hoped sounded threatening. “It’s one thing to die serving our country, but do you really want to die for Blake-Moore? What have they done for you?”
Another long silence, but the way Seth’s mouth tightened made him think he was finally getting through.
“You’re not the first to die over this.” He hadn’t intended to kill anyone, but Seth didn’t need to know that. “I took out the first two mercenaries who came after Olivia, then took care of two more. How many others does Blake-Moore have in their back pocket? You’re disposable, Willis. They don’t care about you. All they want is Olivia. When you’re dead, they’ll easily find a replacement.” He leaned down, getting into Seth’s face. “They won’t miss you when you’re gone.”
Seth’s expression remained stoic but Ryker felt certain his words were getting under Seth’s skin. What he’d said about the Blake-Moore Group was true. They wouldn’t care one bit if Seth died here tonight.
“Numbers.”
The word was so unexpectedly familiar, he wondered if he’d imagined it. “Numbers? Blake-Moore is looking for numbers?”
“Yeah.”
Ryker waited for him to elaborate. “I need more, Seth. Why is Olivia
