Love Inspired Suspense June 2015 - Box Set 2 of 2: Exit Strategy\Payback\Covert Justice (16 page)

SIXTEEN

T
hree in the morning.

Never a good time to be out and about.

Lark was about to be both.

She moved through the dark room, easing around a desk as she tugged on her sweater, shoved her cell phone in her pocket.

“You're sure you want to do this?” Cyrus asked, tugging her hair out from her collar.

“No,” she admitted, smoothing her hand down the thick cotton shirt she'd been asked to wear. She could feel the wires that were taped to her skin, but she'd been assured by a female officer that they weren't visible.

“If you want to back out,” Cyrus said, buttoning both cardigan buttons, “I'll support you.”

“Support me? You'll throw a party and dance a jig,” she joked, her stomach churning with anxiety and dread.

As much as she wanted to go through with the plan, she was terrified of facing Elijah alone.

Not alone
, she reminded herself.
Thirty people are already in the woods waiting for you.

Five members of HEART, fifteen local and state police. DEA agents.

And Cyrus would be there.

He'd wait until she drove away, then he'd take a back road into the ski resort, walk through some heavy woods to get to the crumbling lodge.

Lark had seen pictures of the place, had spent three hours learning every aspect of the plan.

She knew who would be where, what their responses to any given situation would be.

She was still terrified.

The way she saw things, she'd be a fool not to be.

“You're right about the party, but I've never been all that great of a dancer,” Cyrus responded, smiling through the darkness, his eyes gleaming.

Once he'd committed to the plan, he'd gone in wholeheartedly. No hesitation. No holding back. He'd helped mark coordinates and flag the map. He knew what they were getting into. Probably a lot better than Lark did. His calmness eased some of her fear, but it couldn't ease it all.

“Really? I'm shocked. I thought you were good at everything you did.”

He chuckled, pulling her in close, leaning down so they were eye to eye. “For the record, Lark, I admire your choice. It's one I would have made.”

“I know.”

“Do you also know that I'm not planning to say goodbye when this is over?”

“
If
this is over,” she responded, her heart beating frantically. Not from fear this time. From him. His presence. His words. The softness of his face as he looked into her eyes.

“It will be, and when it is, we're both going to be free to go back to what we were before it happened, go back to our lives and live them just exactly the same way we did before. If that's what you want.” He cupped her face in his hands, his palms cool against her suddenly warm cheeks. “I'm hoping it isn't.”

There was so much she could have said, so many fears she could have shared. So many worries about losing her heart again, having it broken again.

But time was ticking away. Elijah was waiting, the plan playing out the way it was supposed to, so she kept it simple, said what she had to and nothing more. “It isn't.”

He smiled, brushing her lips with his, the kiss so sweet, so tender, her heart broke from it.

A single tear slipped down her cheek. A tear for what she'd lost, and for what she was about to gain.

“No tears,” he said quietly, brushing the moisture from her face, kissing her again, deeply, passionately, and she wanted to cling to him, forget the mission and Elijah and the work they still had to do to bring him down.

He backed away, his breathing ragged.

“It's time,” he said simply, and she knew it was.

He handed her a thick leather manual that Sheriff Johnson had had in his office. Joshua's Bible had been locked up in a safe. Would be kept there until one of Chance's contacts could come for it.

She walked to the window, shoved it open, climbed out, dropping to the ground, the manual clutched in her clammy hand, Cyrus's kiss still on her lips.

Logan had parked in the front of the building, and she moved in that direction, keeping to the shadows, because that's what she'd have done if she were really sneaking away.

She thought she felt a dozen eyes watching as she unlocked the Jeep's door and shoved the keys in the ignition.

Her hands shook, but she managed to steer the vehicle onto the road, wind her way through town and out onto a narrow country road.

She knew the way. It had been drilled into her by Logan, by Chance, by Cyrus.

She touched her lips, was sure they were still warm from his kiss.

She wanted what the future would bring, wanted to explore what life would be like with Cyrus in it.

That didn't mean letting go of her memories, it didn't mean forgetting what she'd had with Joshua. It simply meant moving on. It was what Joshua would have wanted for her, what she would have wanted for him if she'd been the one to die.

Tears burned the back of her eyes.

She blinked them away.

She had to stay focused on the mission, stick to the plan.

She had twenty minutes to make it to the ski lodge. One minute after that, and she was supposed to be engaging with Elijah, trying to get him to reveal his secrets.

That was the part she had no control over.

Don't veer from the course.

She could almost hear Cyrus whispering in her ear as she drove up a steep hill, turned onto a rutted road. The woods were deep here, the road meandering upward through endless trees. There should be thirty people hidden in the darkness, slowly making their way to the abandoned ski lodge.

Should be?

Were.

She wasn't alone.

She just had to keep reminding herself of that.

The road opened up again, spilling out into a cleared area dotted with cabins, tangled with overgrown weeds.

She passed the remnants of a small lodge, knew she was closing in on the main lodge. Her stomach twisted, her heart beating so fast, she thought it might jump from her chest.

There! Right up ahead. The main lodge. Windows boarded up. Porch roof caving in. Door yawning open. It looked like every child's worst nightmare.

She parked the Jeep ten yards away, allowing plenty of room for the team to move in. Thirty seconds, and she was supposed to be at the door, knocking.

Only the door was open, and she was sure Elijah was in the darkness beyond, peering out at her.

Please, Lord
, she whispered as she opened the door.
Help me do this.

And then she was out of the Jeep and moving toward the lodge, the manual clutched to her chest.

“Why have you come?” The voice came from somewhere beyond the doorway.

His voice.

Elijah's.

She felt it shivering along her spine, lodging in her chest.

She could barely breathe from the weight of it, but she kept moving.

“I said,” Elijah hissed, “why have you come?”

She was less than two feet from the porch steps, Cyrus's words ringing through her head.

A person starts veering left or right when he's supposed to go straight, and he just might find himself falling off a cliff.

She knew the plan. Step by step. Second by second. Get to the door, force Elijah out onto the wide front porch. The team would have a clear shot of him there.

“I have what you want,” she responded, moving closer, a warning whispering through her head.

He'd known she was coming. Just like they'd expected he would, but he didn't seem eager to get what she was carrying, didn't demand that she hand it over.

“What I want,” he responded, his voice emotionless, “is what I deserve.”

“What's that?” she asked, taking another step, her foot on the bottom stair, something deep inside telling her to stop.

“I am heir to the kingdom that will be ushered in with fire and brimstone,” he intoned, the words chilling her to the bone.

Get him talking. Keep him talking.

The words raced through her head, the plan crystal clear in her mind.

She didn't want to follow it. She wanted to run into the woods and hide from a man who was obviously crazy.

“Is that why you killed Joshua? Because he discovered your plan?”

“It is not my plan. It is God's plan. Your husband is dead because he interfered with it.”

“Did he know he was going to die?” she asked, the questions slipping out, her voice cracking.

“Everyone knows he is going to die, Lark.” He chuckled, and she saw something move in the doorway. A hint of a shadow nothing more.

“
Everyone
is not murdered, and that's what you did. You murdered him.”

“I did not pull the trigger, if that's what you're saying.”

“Then you had John do it.”

“John was too much of a coward to do the Lord's will. In the end, it is what killed him. Bring me what you have,” he demanded.

“Tell me who killed my husband,” she countered.

“Someone who believes in me, who knows I am the new messiah. Someone very close to Joshua,” he added, those sly last words the only ones that mattered.

She thought about her father-in-law, the one man in the compound Joshua had trusted completely.

“Not Eric,” she said, the words barely above a whisper.

He heard, his laughter drifting out of the darkness, wrapping around her heart. “He will receive his reward when I possess what is rightfully mine.”

“What is that?” she asked, her body shaking, her thoughts scattering in a thousand different directions.

Not Eric.

Not his own father.

“My kingdom.” And suddenly he was there, out on the porch, dressed in a long white tunic, his hand reaching for her. “Bring me what Joshua took, and I will let your family live.”

“I don't have any family,” she responded, the words ringing hollowly through the silent morning. Not a sound from the woods. No scurry of animals. No crackle of leaves. Not even a breeze moved through the treetops.

Was the team there?

Was Cyrus?

Stick to the plan.

But she couldn't make herself walk up those steps.

“We are all one family,” he intoned, and she cringed, her mind recoiling from his obvious insanity.

“If you want what I have, come and get it,” she said, backing away, trying to force him farther into the open.

“A book. Is that what you're holding? Is that where he hid it?”

“Hid what?”

“The information he stole from me. Joshua was very smart. He could have done so much for my kingdom. Instead, he betrayed me. He stole from me. He tried to stop me from having what is mine.”

They were back at that again, and she almost stepped forward, handed him the manual just so she could be done with it. Only she didn't think he planned to be done.

She took another step back.

There was something in his left hand, and she squinted trying to see through the darkness. Not a gun. Not a knife. A remote of some sort.

And then, she knew exactly what he'd planned, knew just how crazy he was.

No time for the plan. No time to think of a new one either.

She had to act, and she threw the manual, tossing it onto the porch a few feet from where Elijah stood.

Then she ran toward the trees, her feet like leaden weights, her body seeming to move in slow motion. A hundred yards from the house, and it wasn't enough. She knew it, knew she was out of time.

Someone rushed from the woods, tackled her to the ground, and the world exploded, fire shooting into the sky, hot air washing over her. She was rolling, an arm locked around her waist, a hand over her head.

Cyrus, she wanted to say, but the words were swept into a blackness so deep, she didn't think she'd ever escape from it.

SEVENTEEN

“S
he's coming to,” someone said, the words finding their way into the darkness, pulling her from oblivion and into pain so intense she groaned.

“She probably wishes she wasn't,” someone responded, the feminine voice familiar.

She forced her eyes open, stared into a bright green gaze and a pale pretty face. Stella.

“Cyrus—” she tried to say, the words rasping, her throat raw.

“Alive,” Stella responded, leaning closer and peering into Lark's eyes. “Looks like your brains weren't too scrambled. The doctors were worried.”

“
You
were worried,” Boone scoffed from a chair next to the bed. “She's been pacing around here for three hours, muttering under her breath.”

“I don't mutter,” Stella responded. “And I don't worry. I knew she was going to be fine. How are you feeling, Lark?”

“Like I was hit by a train,” she responded truthfully, trying to sit up.

“Here.” Stella sighed, pressing a button so the head of the bed rose. “Better?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

“Drink.” Stella handed her a plastic cup of water. “Little sips. You've got a couple of broken ribs. If you puke, your body is not going to be happy.”

She took a sip of water, placed the cup on a small table, wincing as she moved. “Where is Cyrus? I need to see him.”

“Probably giving the doctors a hard time. He has a broken clavicle and a cracked wrist. He also has a bad attitude when he's hurt.”

“I need to see him,” she repeated.

“Not going to happen,” Stella responded. “He's a floor up, and you're not in any shape to go there.”

“Says who?”

“The doctor.”

“He hasn't said it to me.” She eased her legs over the side of the bed, pain wrapping around her chest, squeezing her breath away. She ignored it, ignored the cold sweat that beaded her brow.

“There is no way,” Stella began, but a commotion in the hall stopped her short. A woman's voice. A man's. Both of them raised.

Seconds later, Cyrus was in the doorway, a nurse on one side of him, Chance on the other. Jeans torn and covered with soot and blood, arm in a sling, his eyes blazed with irritation and anger, his gaze sweeping over Boone and Stella and settling on Lark.

“Thank the Lord,” he whispered, all the fire fading from his eyes as he limped across the room, lowered himself onto the edge of the bed.

“Are you okay?” He touched her cheek, his fingers slipping to her shoulder and settling there.

“I think I'm better than you,” she responded.

“I'm fine.”

“Stella said you broke your clavicle and cracked your wrist. I don't think that's fine.”

“Stella,” he said, shooting his coworker a hard look, “has a big mouth.”

“I have an honest mouth. Which, now that I'm thinking about it, is parched.” She grabbed Boone's arm, dragged him toward the door. “Come on. I'm sure you're hungry. Let's go to the cafeteria.”

“You think they've got chicken pot pie there?” he asked as he stepped out into the hall. “That's what Scout is making for dinner tonight, and I've got a feeling I'm going to miss it.”

Whatever else he said was lost as they disappeared down the hall. The nurse followed, apparently unwilling to deal with Cyrus any longer.

“Well,” Chance said, pulling a chair over and sitting next to the bed. “You got what you wanted, Cyrus. You're in her room. You can see she's alive. Happy?”

“Very,” he responded. “I'll be even happier when I know that we've got the coordinates for Elijah's weapons stores.”

“My CIA friend arrives in an hour. She'll take a look at the Bible,” Chance said. “I don't think we'll need it. Now that Elijah...” He glanced at Lark.

“Is dead?” she said. “I know he is. You don't have to tiptoe around it.”

“You've been through a lot, Lark. I don't want to add more to it.”

“What more could there be?” She tried to grab the water, but her hands were shaking so much, it sloshed over the side.

“Here.” Cyrus took it from her hand, held it while she took a sip.

“Thanks,” she said, and he smiled into her eyes, ran his thumb along her jaw.

“You're going to have a big bruise there.”

“Not as big as the one on your shoulder.”

“It will heal,” he responded. “You'll heal,” he added.

“I know.” She took his hand, wove her fingers through his, not caring that Chance was there, watching them both, frowning slightly.

“Your father-in-law is in custody, Lark. You need to know that,” Chance said quietly. “He's still in the hospital, but the police have a guard stationed at his room. As soon as he's released, he'll be taken to jail. Sheriff Johnson has already questioned him. At first he wouldn't talk.” He ran a hand down his jaw. “Then we showed him some photos of Elijah's body. Not pleasant, but he needed to see them. He didn't believe Elijah could die. He'd been sure that no amount of fire, no explosion, no bullet could take his leader's life. When he saw that he was wrong...” He shook his head.

“Poor Eric,” she said, because she really was sorry for him. Sorry for the lies he'd believed, for the false faith he'd lived. For what he'd done in the name of that faith.

She thought of Joshua, so alive and vibrant, so filled with true faith, and she wanted to cry for what had been lost.

“I'm sorry,” Cyrus said, gently squeezing her hand.

“Me, too. Do you think...?” She didn't finish the question, didn't have the heart to ask it.

“That Joshua knew his father shot him?” Cyrus spoke softly, his thumb skimming her wrist, the caress offering comfort that she desperately needed. “I've seen the autopsy reports. The bullet went through Joshua's temple. He probably died before any of what was happening registered.”

That didn't make it better, but she was glad. Glad that Joshua hadn't known that final betrayal.

“According to Eric,” Chance said, “he didn't pull the trigger. John did. We'll probably never know the truth. What we do know is that Elijah was a fanatic with a history of drug abuse. He was arrested twice in his early teens. Both times for possession and distribution of cocaine. The records were sealed, and Sheriff Johnson had to get an injunction to open them. He received the file this morning.”

“That was a long time ago,” Cyrus said.

“It was, but a K-9 team found traces of cocaine in Elijah's house. I think he was still an addict, probably delusional from too many years doing hard-core drugs.”

“That doesn't make it better,” Lark said.

“No, but it gives the FBI and DEA some insight into what was going on. Eric said that Elijah had planned tonight carefully, put enough explosives in that lodge to bring it down. He'd assured Eric that that was the beginning of the apocalypse. That you would be killed and reap the rewards of your betrayal, and that Elijah would walk away unscathed.”

“Do you think Elijah really believed that?”

“He blew himself up,” Chance said. “So, I'd say he did. Thankfully, he didn't take either of you out while he did it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go smooth things over with that nurse. She wasn't happy about your escape, Cyrus.” He walked from the room.

“I'm sorry,” Lark said as soon as he was gone, because she had to get it off her chest, had to say what she'd been thinking.

“For what?” Cyrus asked, the bruise on his shoulder so deep black and purple it hurt to look at.

“I did exactly what you told me not to do. I changed the plan, and I nearly got us killed.”

He shook his head, smiled that smile that she'd grown to love. “I think,” he said, his hand moving up her arm, cupping her cheek, “that you need to stop carrying so much guilt around, Lark.”

“It's not guilt. It's fact. I—”

“Assessed the situation and made a split-second decision that saved your life. I'd much rather be sitting here in the hospital with you, both of us bruised and broken, than be sitting in my DC apartment alone, thinking about everything we might have had together.”

“I still—”

He leaned in, stopping the last few words with his lips. Just a gentle kiss, one so light and tender she nearly cried with the beauty of it.

“Will you be doing that every time you want me to be quiet?” she asked, and he laughed.

“Only if you want me to.”

“I think I might,” she responded, and he kissed her palm, folded her fingers over the warmth that lingered there.

“You know what I think, Lark?”

“What?” she asked, her ribs aching, her body sore, but her heart at peace.

“That the next few months and years are going to be interesting. Wait here. I'm going to find that nurse, find you some clothes and then I'm going to break us out of here. I don't know about you, but I've had just about all I can take of River Fork, Pennsylvania.”

She was smiling as he walked out of the room, still smiling when Stella entered, muttering under her breath as she helped Lark into clothes, lectured her about the idiocy of leaving the hospital too soon.

Lark ignored her, because she wanted out of River Fork as much as Cyrus did, and because she was ready to finally move on.

“Ready?” Cyrus appeared in the doorway, clean shirt pulled over his chest, his arm still cradled in the sling, a soft cast covering his wrist.

“Yes,” she responded, smiling into his eyes as she took his hand and let him lead her out of the hospital and into their future.