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No matter what it took, Sam would keep doing her part. All of them were alive and their businesses were intact, and that was all they could ask under the current circumstances. She switched her camera back on as Wiz and Geo, the owner of Copperline Security, confronted Mills about not sharing information.
Finally, she got tired of Mills’s obstinance. He was probably under orders, but she’d had enough. She asked Wiz to cut him off. Then Geo went after Wiz for keeping him in the dark about the attack on the bulk fuel location near Deb’s Bakery. Sam was about to break in, but Deb beat her to the punch, reminding them they were all stressed and needed to give each other some grace. After that, Geo, Michael, and Wiz moved into useful, detailed planning.
A buzzer sounded and Wiz tapped a few keys. Trevor’s face reappeared. “Koslov’s rolling a lot of vehicles south. They’re spread out, trying to avoid notice, but with only a couple of routes available and rush hour traffic over, the change was noticeable, but it took too much time. You’ve got five minutes, tops. There may be others already in the area.”
Deb leaned closer to the camera. “Sam, where are you?”
Sam grabbed her keys and purse, then jogged to her bedroom to grab the “go bag” Wiz insisted she keep packed. At least she had running clothes on, rather than her business casual. “I’m at my house. I’ve got my bag, and I’m leaving now.” She scooped up her backpack, slinging it over her left shoulder, trying to keep the phone steady.
“Too late, Sam,” Trevor yelled. “Go out your back door and meet me at the back fence.”
“What? Why are you in my back yard?” He couldn’t be watching her; there was nowhere to hide in her back yard. She’d just cleared all the dead brush.
“It doesn’t matter. Move! Vehicles pulling up at your house now. Go!” His face disappeared.
Sam scowled. “Men. But I’m going. I’ll check in later. Be careful, Deb!” She ran out the back door, spun to lock it, then jogged across her yard. A piece of the six-foot cedar privacy fence pulled away. When did that get put in? Behind her, glass shattered, followed by a loud bang, like someone had kicked a door in. Her questions had to wait until they were safe.
Trevor beckoned. “Come on, hurry. Turn off your phone.” He moved back. Sam ran through the opening and bounded sideways to avoid slamming into Trevor. He closed and latched the gate. “This way.” He sprinted along a path between piles of lumber, some still in the original wrappers, others covered in tarps. She clenched her phone tight but couldn’t spare the attention to turn it off, or she’d fall.
Sam stayed on his heels, almost running into his backpack when he stopped at the edge of the Queen Anne mansion. He looked both ways, then shot forward and to the right, away from the vehicle parked in the driveway, which made no sense. But he didn’t hesitate, so she chased him. He ran across the road, between two houses on the other side, then stopped at a garage in the alley and entered a code into a keypad. A garage door rose, revealing a smaller white SUV. “Get in, buckle up.”
She threw her backpack on top of the boxes and totes piled in the back seat, then jumped in and fastened her seatbelt. Trevor stepped on the gas, shooting out of the garage and flying down the alley. At the intersection with the next road, he slowed, looking both ways, then pulled out, driving at the speed limit. “Power your phone down. All the way off. Pull the battery if you know how. Fitness watch, too.”
After all that running, the slow-motion escape was excruciating. Sam was sure it was to avoid notice, but late at night, the white SUV stood out in the sleepy town. She hoped Trevor knew what he was doing. She turned the phone off, then pried it out of the case, took it apart and removed the battery, dropping the pieces into her purse. Then she powered down her watch. Recovering her breath, she figured she was safe enough to ask. “Are you renovating that Queen Anne behind me?”
Trevor shot her a wry glance. “Yes. I bought it, not the FBI.”
Sam turned away, clamping her mouth shut. He’d just rescued her from the mob, so she probably shouldn’t start yelling. His presence brought back bad memories, but she wasn’t in high school; she could stop, think, and react reasonably. Maybe. Buying the house behind hers seemed ominous and creepy. “Why did you buy a house here? Your job isn’t here, is it?”
He stopped at the light, then turned onto the highway, heading north toward Missoula. “My office is in Virginia, outside DC, but I live almost anywhere. Usually, I’m a forensic accountant.”
“An accountant? Seriously?” She’d believed FBI special agents were action-adventure stars; superheroes with guns rather than capes. Or at least extremely capable law enforcement.
“Sorry to disappoint you.” His tone was dry.
Sam sighed. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. I was just surprised.”
“That makes two of us.” Before she could ask, he continued. “I’m not normally in the field. But a chance encounter with Koslov gave me an entrance into his organization. A little extra training, and here I am, making a fool of myself.”
His self-assessment was surprisingly blunt and shocking. School-age Trevor could never admit he was wrong about anything. “I’d like to say you’re wrong, but—”
He snort-laughed. “Thanks for that. But it shows you’ve changed as much as I have. You wouldn’t have agreed back in school, even though I was a bigger fool then.”
It was Sam’s turn to laugh. “Well, not to beat a dead horse, but yeah, you were a fool. But so was I. We both had a lot of growing to do. Can you imagine if we’d stayed together? We’d have stayed right here, me working for minimum wage, you working for your father, living in some lousy apartment, and we’d be miserable.”
“Sure about that?” He held up his hand, palm out. “I mean, yes, we’d be working, but we were both in college. If I’d grown up a little faster, I could have supported you through law school, then it would have been my turn. But I was an idiot. I let you go, and I’ve regretted it for a long time.”
Sam clamped her lips together, trying to hold back her angry words, but her fury won. “You didn’t ‘let me go,’ you shoved me away. And you were cruel about it.” Her fingernails stabbed her palms, and she stretched her fingers. No need to hurt herself over old injuries. Besides, he was lying. Trevor wouldn’t have supported her; it would have been the opposite.
“I regret that most of all. It was unforgivable, and even if I still love you, I don’t expect you to love me back.”
She turned and scowled at him. “You don’t love me. You don’t even know me. Sure, I’m hot. I work hard to look this good. But you know nothing about me.”
“I know some things. I know you love your friends fiercely, and even though most high school friendships fail when someone goes to college, yours didn’t. You stuck with them, even when Erin didn’t come back for years. And I know you had your pick of big firms in cities and towns across the US, but instead, you came back to Marcus to practice basic civil law. It wasn’t for your parents.”
Trevor saw too much. And knew too much. “You had a profile done on me.”
“The FBI has files on everyone involved with Koslov. Subjects, associates, and bystanders are less… complete than the perps, but school records are public. You were number two in your law class, Sam. That’s amazing. So, why did you come back?”
