Into the Fire (27 page)

Cah-chick. Cah-chick.
Hannah took more pictures.

Craig Reed held out another robe—a white one this time—for the hairless dude.

Yeah, it was definitely some kind of ritual they were watching here. Black robe, fire, white robe…Possibly a new member initiation?

“I’ve heard of walking on coals,” Hannah breathed, “but this seems a little extreme.”

The cabin was burning in earnest now, with all of the guards—not just the ones manning the water tank—focused on keeping the nearby trees from being engulfed in the flames. Murphy tapped Hannah, motioning for her to fade back with him.

They had to move—he could feel the heat from the fire. They didn’t have a choice. And yeah, okay, they hadn’t witnessed an execution as he’d first feared. Which meant that even though they were in minutely less danger, they were still in danger.

Which was why, about three hundred yards from the burning cabin, when Hannah breathed, “Oh,
shit
!” he didn’t soundly curse himself for his hastily made command decision to retreat.

He saw right away that she had tripped a booby trap, and he grabbed her and rolled, bracing himself for the explosion of a claymore mine, of the spray of shrapnel that would tear them into pieces.

But it didn’t come and it didn’t come, and he realized, as back by the cabin a siren started to wail, that the tripwire had been connected to some kind of electronic surveillance device.

That siren was some kind of intruder alert. In minutes, this entire compound was going to be swarming with angry neo-Nazis with guns.

He dragged Hannah to her feet and started to run.

D
ALTON
, C
ALIFORNIA

“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, but my car broke down.” Eden practiced saying it as she walked up the dirt and gravel drive that led to Hannah Whitfield’s cabin.

Actually, it was Hannah’s uncle’s cabin, which was one of the reasons everyone had gotten into such a cramp about trying to find it. They didn’t know the uncle’s last name.

But it had taken Sophia all of four seconds to wrangle Billy-the-cook into submission. He’d delivered up the apparently not-so-secret location of Hannah’s uncle’s cabin without blinking.

Of course, it didn’t hurt that Sophia looked as if she could have played an elf princess in
Lord of the Rings,
long blond hair and porcelain complexion and all. Billy gave off a heavy Jerry vibe—good-looking, but completely useless for anything besides a beer run. It was more than obvious that, like Jerry, he, too, was a captive to his own wayward and far too optimistic penis.

But Sophia was one of those women who cast a spell on everyone male, wherever she went. Eden’s own brother was one of her altar boys. And the nerdly guy in charge named Dave practically peed in circles around her—as if he actually stood a chance.

Even Izzy had a moment of eye glaze when Sophia shook his hand and said hello. But she’d turned and greeted Eden just as warmly. Her congratulations seemed honest and heartfelt, which was refreshing, here in the land of the frozen smile.

And even though, when standing next to her, Eden had felt large and clumsy, she knew from the wistfulness in Sophia’s eyes that she had something Sophia didn’t. Something Sophia wanted, but wasn’t sure she’d ever have, yet at the same time, didn’t begrudge Eden for having.

As in Pinkie, sleeping now, inside Eden’s belly.

And, okay, yeah, maybe she was just telling herself that so as not to feel threatened by Sophia’s petite perfection.

Eden stopped halfway up the driveway to shake a pebble out of her sandal. She couldn’t imagine living off the grid, but if she ever did, it would be in a place like this, in a sunlit clearing, high in the mountains, with a garden growing.

And a super big-ass satellite dish.

She could feel Izzy watching as she went up onto the front porch. He’d purposely positioned himself at the front of the cabin, so as not to be far from her.

Danny was out there, too—no doubt expecting her to somehow mess this up.

The entire team was strategically positioned, hiding in the woods around the cabin, watching all of the various windows and doors. They were afraid this Murphy guy they were looking for was going to make a run for it, and they wanted to be able to stop him.

Eden had volunteered to approach the front door pretending that her car had broken down, since both Murphy and his girlfriend Hannah had never laid eyes on her before. The idea was to draw Murphy out of the cabin and onto the driveway, at which point the team would close in, surrounding him, and Grumpy Dave, the team leader, would step out of the bushes.

She looked around the porch as she knocked on the door. There was a swing and some comfortable-looking wooden rocking chairs, lots of plants in festively colored ceramic pots. A pair of work boots, covered with mud, had been kicked off and pushed out of the way. One was on its side.

Hannah Whitfield had big feet. Either that, or this guy Murphy had tiny ones.

Eden opened the screen and knocked on the door itself this time. “Hello? Is anyone home?”

It was kind of stupid for her to shout, because Hannah was profoundly deaf, which was kind of freaky. Although, if Eden truly were a stranded motorist, she wouldn’t know that Hannah was deaf, so it made sense for her to call out a greeting.

Eden peeked through the window into what looked to be the main room of the cabin. It was dark and rustic looking, with a leather sofa. Very manly. She couldn’t tell if there was actually a moose head on the wall, but it wouldn’t surprise her one bit if there was.

There was no one inside—at least that she could tell. There looked to be a bedroom in the back, plus a ladder leading up to some kind of loft space.

It was tiny and pretty cute. Living here would be kind of like living in the playhouse her father had built, for Danny, before he’d left for good. Eden had done that for a while—she’d moved into the playhouse, the summer she was twelve—just to see how long it would take for her mother to notice she was gone.

The game kind of lost its shine the start of week number three.

Eden opened the screen again and tried the doorknob, then tried not to gasp as she realized Izzy had appeared, standing right behind her.

“It’s locked,” she said.

He nodded, running his hand along the top of the door frame. “Car’s gone. She’s probably out.”

“That’s assuming she has a car,” Eden pointed out.

“She definitely does,” he told her as he now searched beneath all of the plant pots. “A subcompact—you can tell by the tire tracks. Bingo.” He smiled triumphantly as he pulled a key out from beneath one of the chairs’ rockers.

It was impossible to not smile back at him. “Kind of an obvious hiding place,” she said.

“Most people go with obvious.” He unlocked the door, knocking again as he opened it. “Anyone here?”

“Heads up,” Eden said. “Grumpy Dave at six o’clock.”

Izzy glanced behind him, his grin broadening. “Grumpy Dave,” he said. “I like it. He’s gonna
Zanella
me. Wait for it…”

“Zanella,” Dave called. “What are you—”

Izzy waggled his eyebrows at her, and went inside.

“Doing?” Dave huffed his exasperation. “She’s probably out, getting groceries. We didn’t need to break in.”

“The key was right there,” Eden told him. “She practically left the door unlocked.”

The look he gave her was a standard
oh, my God, a talking monkey.

See, Dave was a little afraid of her. She’d met guys like him before—the kind who got deeply mired inside their own heads when it came to sex. It was pretty obvious, despite his being high priest to his goddess Sophia, that Grumpy Dave found Eden attractive. It was also obvious that he didn’t think his attraction was even remotely appropriate, probably on account of their age difference, but who could be sure? A guy like him probably had about four billion rules.

Whatever the case, his strategy, to this point, had been to ignore Eden and pretty much pray she do the same to him.

The end result of
that
was his current look of shock that she’d spoken to him. In proper English.

She smiled at him—a simple
you’ve got a penis and not only do I know it, but I’m actually thinking about it right…this…second
smile—and yep. He took so many steps back, he practically fell off the porch.

Izzy rescued Dave, saving him from having to respond, by coming back to the screen.

But now Eden was the one who was a little freaked out, because while he was inside, her fiancé had morphed into someone serious. Someone who suddenly seemed much older and harder than he’d been just moments earlier.

“Murphy’s definitely been staying here,” he told Dave. “His gear’s up in the loft.”

“You’re sure it’s his?”

“Unless Hannah’s got another extra-large friend who randomly writes the word
Murphy
on his boots and equipment. But feel free to come on in and check it out yourself, G.D.”

Dave cursed, because he so obviously didn’t want to invade Hannah and Murphy’s privacy, but then he went into the cabin.

Eden followed.

Okay, so she’d been wrong about the moose head. There was nothing dead on any of the walls. The few pictures that were hanging were actually real art. Modern paintings with bold colors and shapes and fascinating brushstrokes. It smelled good in there, too, kind of like Christmas in July. It was cozy, with brightly colored fleece throws, an old-fashioned writing desk tucked in the corner near the kitchen, and that leather sofa that looked perfect for an afternoon nap.

She tried not to yawn.

“You see a computer anywhere?”

She looked up to find that Izzy was speaking to her. “No,” she said, doing a quick scan, “but there’s a cable modem thingy here by the desk.”

“Hmm,” Izzy said as he came to look at the uncluttered surface. “Hannah’s not out shopping,” he called up to Dave, who’d gone up the ladder and into the loft. “You ever take your laptop shopping?” he asked Eden.

“No laptop,” she said. “But if I had one? Definitely not.”

Dave came down the ladder fireman style, sliding, with his feet on the outside, hands slowing his descent on the rungs. It was quite the he-man move, but it wasn’t done to impress. The man was in a hurry, his cell phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear. “Out,” he said to Izzy, then turned to include her. “Please. Sophia says there’s a car coming up the hill. It might be them.”

T
HE MOUNTAINS EAST OF
S
ACRAMENTO
, C
ALIFORNIA

Hannah ran.

Bushes and branches slapped and whipped her, but she tried to push it faster and harder, despite the fact that her ankle was screaming with pain. She’d already walked farther last night than she had in the years since the accident, and she’d been trying to conceal her limp long before dawn.

She’d thought that she’d managed to keep it hidden from Murphy, but apparently not.

He was half-carrying her now, supporting her weight by hooking her arm up and around his shoulders, his arm around her waist.

But God, she was slowing him down.

“Leave me,” she gasped, which was a stupid thing to say, because she would never leave him were their roles reversed.

Sure enough, he didn’t bother to respond. He just kept running.

They were heading toward the fences, and Hannah knew that if they didn’t get there soon, before reinforcements arrived, they were screwed. They’d be trapped here, inside the compound. They’d be hunted and eventually captured. Because even if they could stay hidden, they’d run out of food.

They had to get out, and they had to do it now.

Hannah knew they were getting close to the compound’s back door—she could feel the vibration of the siren, wailing through a loudspeaker that was positioned somewhere up in the trees.

Indeed, Murphy slowed, pushing them both down so that they were concealed as they made their approach.

Despite being compromised, they still had an element of surprise on their side. No one—including the two guards who, yes, were standing at high alert, their weapons aimed out at the surrounding forest—knew exactly who had tripped that wire. It could have been one person, or an army.

“I’ll distract them,” she told Murphy. “You circle from behind.”

He nodded. “Don’t get too close—they’re already scared.”

Scared plus automatic weapons equaled trigger-happy.

“Go,” she said.

He nodded, looking hard into her eyes, reaching up to touch the side of her face. “Be careful,” he said.

And he kissed her. Hard.

Hannah wasn’t ready for it. He crushed his mouth against hers, amidst a burst of noise in her head. It was over so quickly, she didn’t have time to properly kiss him back.

“Murph,” she said, but he was gone.

Talk about a distraction…

Hannah focused and counted to five, giving Murphy a little more time to get into position as she dug her camera back out of her pocket, then…

“Hey!” she shouted, stepping out from the brush and into the road that led directly to the fence and the two guards. “Can I get your picture? I’m a reporter from the
Sacramento Bee,
and…” She snapped their picture, and pretended only then to realize that both weapons were raised and aimed at her. “Oh, my goodness, haven’t they told you yet? They’ve opened the front gates and let the media in. The sirens are wailing in celebration—the FBI caught the man who murdered Tim Ebersole!”

With their attention completely on Hannah, neither guard saw Murphy as he came from the side and tackled them, taking them both to the ground.

Hannah ran toward them, but before she could get there, the battle was over. Murph had them both disarmed and unconscious.

He grabbed her and gave her a boost up that first fence. She was quickly over it and landing—shit, that hurt! Her ankle didn’t hold her and she tried to roll as she hit the ground, instead belly flopping and getting a mouthful of dried leaves. But then Murphy was there, dragging her over to the mock-electric fence, where they both scrambled beneath the wires.

Hannah’s pants got caught on the barbed wire of the third fence, but again, Murphy was there, pulling her free. She landed—this time succeeding in rolling. But the damage to her ankle had already been done.