Elizabeth took a breath. “Scott… is that really going to happen?”
“Yes, Elizabeth, it’s really going to happen. That’s why we’re going back to the safehouse. Jack and I will be finalizing the details of the operation with our chief.”
“I can’t quite wrap my head around it,” she murmured, a strange sensation rippling through her. “Can I be involved? Please? I need to be, I really do, and I don’t mean making coffee.”
He smiled. “There will be a place for you.”
“Thank God, though I guess I’m not sounding much like a DEA agent right now.”
“That’s because it’s personal.”
“You’re right,” she admitted, feeling a rush of emotion. “I’ve always managed to keep a professional distance, but the way Manny died changed all that.”
“Don’t dwell on it; dwell on the progress we’ve made.”
“You and Jack, you’ve achieved so much.”
“Elizabeth, if you hadn’t come back, we wouldn’t be where we are. We made leaps and bounds because Dan Miller was exposed, and everything snowballed from there.”
“That man is such a freak. He was called Twister at the mansion. I never saw it, but apparently he can do weird things with his body.”
“Like what?”
“I have no idea,” she replied, scrunching her face. “Just the thought of that man doing anything with his body makes me nauseous.”
“I want to check it out,” Scott said thoughtfully, “but let’s clean up these dishes and get moving. We need to get back to the safehouse.”
* * *
As the van wound down the hill, Dan lay on his back, and using all his strength, he kicked the tiny, grid-covered window.
“Hey, stop, stop,” he shouted, quickly straightening up. “This guy in here with me, there’s something wrong with him.”
“Like what?” one of the men called back as the van slowed.
“I think he’s having a heart attack.”
“We’ll take him to the hospital.”
“But his face is all red, and he’s—fuck—help me. Call an ambulance. Do something.”
The vehicle came to a sharp stop, throwing Dan off balance. Quickly recovering, he grinned down at Jim. Though their wrists were free, and the cuffs were in their pockets, Jim was on his back lying on his hands, and Dan had positioned him kneeling over him with his arms behind him.
The doors opened.
Both agents had their guns drawn, pointed inside the van.
Dan and Jim didn’t move.
“He’s real bad,” Dan bleated, his face crinkling. “I think he might already be dead.”
“Move all the way back,” one of the agents ordered.
“Sure, sure,” Dan muttered as he shuffled away.
He watched the two men closely.
The opportunity would present itself.
He just had to be patient.
The agent who had ordered him back holstered his weapon and climbed inside.
Still Dan waited.
Crouching down, the man placed his fingers against Jim’s neck.
As Jim suddenly punched him in the nose with his closed fist, Dan bolted through the van and hurled his long body against the armed man outside. Though the guard was able to discharge his gun, his arms had been flailing…
* * *
Scott froze.
He’d been putting a plate in the kitchen cupboard when he’d heard two sharp pops.
They had been distant, but unmistakable.
“Was that what I think it was?” Elizabeth asked breathlessly.
A third shot answered her question.
“I’ve gotta go,” he exclaimed, bolting from the room.
“I’m coming.”
“No, stay here,” he ordered, rushing into the office.
“But if it’s Jim he could come back,” she called, running after him. “I don’t want to face him alone.”
Scott paused. “Fuck, you’re right,” he grunted, grabbing a set of keys from the desk drawer and opening a cupboard.
“And I need a weapon,” she continued as he hastily grabbed his gun belt and strapped it on.
Reaching into the cache of guns, he grabbed a 40-caliber handgun, pushed in a full magazine, and handed it to her with a holster.
“You can put that on in the car,” he declared, racing from the room and leading her out a back door to a waiting Jeep.
“Buckle up tight,” he ordered, climbing behind the wheel as she settled into the passenger seat. “I’ll be taking a short cut.”
Chapter 21
Charging through the forest on a makeshift lane, Scott swerved around the debris left by the storm. Grasping the seatbelt across her chest in a white-knuckle grip, Elizabeth prayed they wouldn’t end up wrapped around a tree.
“There!” he exclaimed, slamming on the brakes and expertly controlling the skidding Jeep to a stop.
Peering past him through his window, she spotted a white panel van parked in a clearing near the winding hill road.
“Look out your side,” he said briskly. “Do you see anyone or any movement?”
“Nothing,” she replied, studying the area.
“I’m going directly to the van. You approach taking a wide sweep, but easy does it, move slowly.”
She nodded, then climbed from the Jeep and pulled the gun from her holster. Though she wanted to keep her eyes on Scott as he neared the vehicle, danger could be hiding anywhere in the thick foliage. Her eyes darting from left to right and listening intently for any telltale sounds of human life, the adrenalin pumped through her body. Finally taking a quick glance at Scott, she saw him reach the van and crouch down. Staying on alert as she continued her sweep and started toward him, she was about to break through the thick foliage when she thought she heard a groan. Pausing her step, she held her breath.
“Help me…”
The breathless plea had come from her right. Her arms extended and holding the gun in both hands, she moved cautiously around a huge plant with massive leaves. Suddenly, lying at her feet, Jim Parker oozed blood from a bullet wound to his chest.
“Jim, you’ll be okay,” she promised urgently, crouching next to him. “I’ll be right back.”
Still concerned about the possibility of lurking danger, she couldn’t yell for Scott, but moving as fast as she dared, she broke from the forest and hurried across to the small turnout on the side of the road. Scott was kneeling over a man on the
