Exit Strategy (4 page)

“I told you she was okay, Mason,” Emily whispered.

“That you did,” he whispered back, even though he was almost positive that Sabrina was already awake. “You stitched her arm?”

“I was going to but ended up not having to. It had finally stopped bleeding, so I cleaned it and covered it to keep it from getting infected.”

“Thank you for taking such good care of her, and for changing her clothes.” The last he’d added for Sabrina’s benefit, so that she knew it was a woman who’d dressed her. He wouldn’t want her to feel further violated than she probably already did, thinking that a man she didn’t know had been that familiar with her body.

“It was no trouble. I wanted to make sure she was protected,” Emily said.

Sabrina’s brow furrowed, then quickly smoothed out. Awake then, and understandably confused by Emily’s comment. Well, if she was going to play possum, he couldn’t explain what Emily meant without calling Sabrina’s bluff. He had to admire her resourcefulness. She’d already shown herself to be a fighter. Now she was showing herself to be clever as well, probably hoping her playacting would buy her some time so she could try to escape.

She was certainly proving to be one of the more interesting marks he’d ever met. Then again, maybe his fascination with her wasn’t so much in his mind as in another part of his anatomy. Just standing this close to her had his blood running hot, as it had every time he’d been near her tonight.

Disgusted with his lack of focus, he motioned to Emily. They left the room and he closed the door behind them. While Emily hurried to her husband’s side at the high-­top table, Mason stopped across from him.

“Okay,” Buchanan said, his tone impatient. “You’ve seen her like you
demanded
. Now tell me what happened with Ace.”

Mason grabbed his two bags from underneath the table and set them on top next to the bow and arrows he’d left there before checking on Sabrina. As he stowed the equipment into one of the bags and checked the contents of the other one, he summarized his meeting with Ace.

Buchanan’s jaw tightened after he heard the whole story. “After the savagery Ace inflicted upon my family, it was my
right
to finish him off. But, at your insistence, I trusted that duty to you so that I could get Emily to safety. And now you’re telling me that you let him go? That my wife is still in danger? Why didn’t you kill him when you had the chance?”

Mason arched a brow at Buchanan’s tone.

Emily placed her hand on her husband’s arm as if to try to calm him. She bit her bottom lip, glancing nervously between the two men.

Mason knew that Buchanan blamed Ace for what had happened to his family. And he’d seen firsthand tonight that many of Buchanan’s decisions were driven by his concern for his wife. Mason understood Buchanan’s anger, and imagined that he’d feel the same way in the same situation. So he kept a tight rein on his own temper and carefully modulated his tone as he responded to what amounted to an accusation.

“Judgment call. I gave Ace the benefit of the doubt. He believed he was doing his job when he fired at us. I warned him, and let him go. Maybe you would have done differently, but—­”

“Damn right I would have.”

Mason shrugged. “Understandable, given your history. But
I
don’t have a history with Ace, or at least, I
didn’t
. Until tonight. I expect our next meeting won’t go the same way.”

He set both bags on the floor, leaving the top of the table clear. “Rather than argue, I suggest we review the documentation you promised me and come up with Plan B. Staying in the cabin until the rendezvous tomorrow night is no longer a safe option.”

“Only because you let Ace go.”

Mason simply waited, keeping silent.

Buchanan seemed to struggle for composure, but after exchanging a long look with his wife, he blew out a breath and gave her a crisp nod.

Apparently his nod had been a signal. Emily crossed to Buchanan’s black go-­bag sitting on the floor by the door and pulled out a computer tablet. When she returned, she handed it to her husband and climbed onto the bar stool beside him. Buchanan pressed her hand in thanks.

“It’s encrypted and password protected.” He slowly typed the password, glancing at Mason to make sure he was paying attention.

Mason nodded to let him know he’d seen and memorized it.

Buchanan slid the tablet toward Mason and pointed at one of the document icons on the screen. “That’s a copy of the EXIT order that you were given for Miss Hightower, listing the main charge against her, that she’s funneling millions from the High­tower fortune into a cell of domestic terrorists in the Carolinas. Allegedly, that’s the reason she moved here from Colorado a month ago.” He tapped another icon. “This is a more in-­depth background report, put together by someone who’s helping me on this. You’ll want to pay particularly close attention to the part about what happened to her parents, and the lawsuit. And when you compare the report to the information on the order, you’ll see they bear little resemblance to each other.”

Mason ignored the screen for now. “Your wife mentioned something earlier about a firewall, and that you might have to locate physical backups of any other data that you want. Does that mean that EXIT knows you broke into the mainframe?”

“My computer expert doesn’t believe so, no. Just that there was a security audit about the time we retrieved our data and they decided to upgrade their security measures.”

“Who’s your security expert?”

“Next question.”

“Wrong answer. You want me to trust you? Then you’d better start trusting me.”

“It’s not about trust. It’s about limiting collateral damage if things go wrong. I’m not giving up my sources, or how they get their information. Period.”

Buchanan’s answer rankled. But Mason understood his position, and respected him for it. If he protected others by keeping their secrets, then he’d protect Mason the same way if they were on the same team. Knowing that, made it easier to understand why Ramsey trusted Buchanan.

“How do I know your background report is accurate and EXIT’s is false?”

Buchanan pointed to another icon. “Every fact is corroborated with a minimum of two sources. You can follow up on a lot of this on the Internet, but only if you know where to look. Whoever falsified the Hightower EXIT order did a remarkably thorough job of twisting innocuous information to make it look damning.”

“Is Sabrina the only one?”

“The only one with a fake EXIT order?”

“If you’re right about her order being fake, yes.”

“I’m right,” Buchanan assured him. “And so far it’s the only one that we’ve
proven
is fake. But we’ve identified four others that are suspect. We’re looking into them right now. It’s all there, on the tablet.”

Emily kept glancing anxiously toward the bedroom. Mason knew she was worried about what was going to happen to Sabrina. But he couldn’t reassure her—­not until he examined the evidence.

“Besides Ramsey and me, how many enforcers know about this?” Mason asked.

Buchanan cleared his throat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “I’ve spent the past few months digging into backgrounds on other enforcers. When I worked for EXIT, I was tasked with pursuing enforcers who’d gone rogue. Because of that, I have extensive knowledge and information on every one who works for Cyprian. After weighing the data, I’ve identified specific men and women to target to convince to come over to our side. I’ve spoken to—­”

“How many?” Mason interrupted.

“Cole, Bailey, and Graham. They haven’t committed yet, but Ramsey is helping me in discussions with them. They’ve all given their word to keep our confidence and consider the facts.”

“But they haven’t joined your team. Not officially.”

“No. Not yet.”

Mason cursed. “You’ve started a war against Cyprian and an entire company of enforcers with just Ramsey at your side? And you’re hopeful that I, and the others you listed,
might
join you?”

“And me,” Emily added. “I’ve never been an enforcer, but I was a police officer—­a detective, actually. I know my way around a gun and my investigative skills are an asset.”

Since his ears were still ringing from Emily firing a gun inside the Hummer, Mason wasn’t sure he agreed about her firearms skills. But he didn’t belabor the point.

“And you,” Mason agreed. “Still, that’s a handful against, what, seventy, eighty enforcers trained in intelligence gathering, hand-­to-­hand combat, guerrilla tactics, and a dozen other specialties? Not to mention any backup the other alphabet agencies might supply if we can’t convince the Council that Cyprian—­or whoever within EXIT might be creating false EXIT orders—­needs to be taken down.”

Buchanan was shaking his head no even before Mason finished. “EXIT’s strength is its secrecy, in the government’s ability to deny EXIT’s existence with no paper trail that can lead back to anyone outside the company. Even the Council’s involvement is based on verbal, in-­person communiqués. They’re all completely shielded from anything to do with EXIT’s missions. No way would the Council ever involve the other agencies. That’s not a valid concern.”

“Maybe, maybe not. You still should have waited until you had a bigger force, a realistic chance of winning before declaring war.”

“If I’d waited, what would have happened to Miss Hightower?”

Mason swore again, hating that Buchanan was right—­but
only
if Sabrina was innocent.

Buchanan stood and reached for Emily’s hand. “I’d planned on a lengthy discussion and answering all of your questions. But as you stated earlier, we don’t have the luxury of staying in the cabin tonight with Ace out there hunting for us. Plan B is that we get the hell out of here.” He glanced at his wife before continuing. “Ace got far too close to Emily once. I’m not going to let that happen again.”

Emily’s eyes flashed with irritation and she patted the pistol holstered on her hip. “You keep forgetting that I can protect myself.”

He swept her hair back from her cheek, revealing a puckered scar that appeared to be from a burn. Buchanan feathered his hand down the scar.

“Humor me,” he said, his voice gruff.

Her shoulders slumped. Mason suspected this was an ongoing argument between the two of them. But Emily nodded, giving in for now.

“We’ll split up to make it more difficult for Ace,” Buchanan said. “Your Jeep is still parked on the side of the cabin. We’ll take the Hummer and meet you at the rendezvous point tomorrow evening, at eighteen-­thirty, sharp. I assume you can find somewhere to lie low for the night?”

“Of course. What about you? Ramsey told me you’re from Savannah. Have you got somewhere to stay?”

“We’re pretty much from nowhere these days. Don’t worry about us. Since I left EXIT, lying low is all we’ve been doing. Emily and I will be fine.” He gestured toward the tablet. “If you still have any questions after reading the documents, I’ll address them at the meeting. Ramsey will be there too, assuming he shakes anyone on his tail before then. He said you offered one of your properties as the location for the rendezvous. Is that still good?”

“ ‘Offered’ isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Strong-­armed you, did he?”

“More like begged. It was pathetic. I don’t normally share that location with anyone. It’s buried under layers of fake names and corporations. I expect complete discretion. You, Ramsey, your wife—­that’s it. No one else.”

“Agreed.” He pulled Emily to the door and grabbed his go-­bag.

“Wait.” Emily waved toward the bedroom. “We should take Sabrina with us if Mason hasn’t decided yet whether he’s going to join us against EXIT.”

Buchanan studied Mason. “Regardless of your decision about the company, do I have your word that you won’t harm Miss Hightower?”

“You have my word that I won’t harm her,
as long as she’s innocent
of the charges in the EXIT order.”

“Good enough.”

Emily tugged her hand out of his grasp, frowning at him. She unzipped the go-­bag hanging off his shoulder and rummaged inside.

“Em, what are you doing?” Buchanan asked. “We have to—­”

“Just a minute.” She shot him an aggravated glance and grabbed something out of the bag before crossing back to Mason. “Here.” She handed him some clothes. “I’m guessing you didn’t think to grab her a change of clothing. I know how it is to be on the run. She might need those.”

Mason felt awkward taking the clothes, especially since he didn’t know what was going to happen to Sabrina yet. But he nodded his thanks.

Emily looked torn about leaving, but Buchanan didn’t give her any more time to think about it. With a nod to Mason, he pulled Emily out the door and shut it behind them.

Mason shoved the clothes in one of his bags then locked the door before returning to the table. He still couldn’t quite believe that Buchanan had left Sabrina with him, particularly with his wife expressing doubts. Obviously, Buchanan was convinced the evidence on the computer tablet would prove conclusively that Sabrina was innocent or he wouldn’t have left.

In spite of tonight’s confrontation with Ace, Mason held out hope that he could convince Cyprian he had
not
gone rogue, if the evidence didn’t prove out the way Buchanan believed it would. Both Mason’s future, and Sabrina’s, were now at stake.

After changing the password on the tablet to one of his own making, he clicked on the first icon, Sabrina’s EXIT order. The green EXIT Inc. logo was printed on the top right, along with its subtitle, “EXtreme International Tours.” The accompanying thumbnail of smiling tourists riding the rapids made his eyes roll, as it always did. Officially, EXIT was a company that specialized in planning extreme, and often dangerous, outdoor vacations and providing expert survivalist guides to ensure the clients’ safety. But the name EXIT was far more appropriate for the company’s secret, true mission than most ­people would ever realize.

He began reviewing the documents on the tablet. Long ago, when he first became an enforcer, he’d made a habit of verifying the data before going after each mark. He’d wanted to be absolutely certain—­beyond
any
doubt—­that the person judged guilty truly was guilty. Somewhere along the line he’d stopped bothering with the verification, because he’d never—­not once—­found any errors or cause for concern. Now he wondered if that had been a mistake. Particularly when he read the background on Sabrina and her family. Either she had the worst luck of anyone on the planet, or something else was at work here.