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She came to the swing gate that marked John’s property and slowed to a stop, sweating and panting.
Layla must be enjoying this. Gracie hadn’t seen any cameras, but a little way back instructions had started appearing on her phone that let her know she was being monitored.
Normally, she wouldn’t get service up here, but her phone had been taken over, admitted into some kind of Wi-Fi network. Layla had obviously done that. As Gracie caught her breath, her text alert beeped. She read it. Leave the goggles on the road.
She took a long look down the driveway, scanned as far as she could in the woods, before reaching up and pulling off her night vision. Her eyes blinked and adjusted as she bent and placed her googles on the ground before starting down the driveway—which was, thank God, downhill. She reduced her speed down the half-mile, mostly because she couldn’t see very well.
When she saw the cabin lights, she slowed to a walk and did some recon. One person on the distant porch. Layla. She spotted no one else, but she couldn’t see very far into the woods without her NVG. Surely Layla had at least one person covering her. Probably more.
She might not be in the best shape of her life, but Gracie still had above-average conditioning and her breathing quickly evened out. Too bad she couldn’t control her sweating as easily. Her clothes, black cargo pants and shirt, clung to her sweat-soaked body. She wiped her face with her hand and swung at the swarm of gnats circling her head like a rain cloud.
“Stop right there.”
Gracie startled and stopped. The disembodied voice had come from a small device attached to a tree.
“Strip.”
“Is that necessary? You must have sensors.”
“Strip.”
Crazy person. Gracie pulled off her boots, struggled out of her sweat-drenched pants, lifted off her shirt, and stood there in her bra and panties. She twirled to show she had no weapons and wasn’t wired.
“You have a tattoo?”
“Can I put my clothes back on?”
“What does it mean?”
The calmness of Layla’s voice turned Gracie’s blood to ice. This was a game to her. “Why do you care?”
“If you tell me, I’ll tell you where Cee is.”
Gracie’s heart started to pound. Cee. Was she close? The yellow lights of the cabin fell across Layla, but she wasn’t close enough to read the expression hidden by the woman’s baseball cap. “I got the tattoo when I was fifteen. My sister Justice”—the one who shared no blood with her but was her sister—“and I snuck out.”
“You ran away?”
“Yeah. For two weeks. And in that time, we got into a lot of trouble. I met a tattoo artist. She started the tattoo. It was supposed to symbolize my take on the world, grab the sin, the apple, the bad decision, and don’t let go.”
“Bold. You said started it.”
She didn’t want to answer this lunatic’s questions, but as long as she was calm and paying attention to Gracie, she wasn’t paying attention to Dusty coming in the back way. “Yeah. We were caught, had an incident with a stolen vehicle. Anyway, I had it finished later.”
There was a moment of silence. “Cee is in the woods. Does that make you feel better?”
It should. It didn’t. “Is she alive? Injured?”
“Actually, she’s been doing a good job of following instructions. And judging by where your friend Dusty is, he should come across her soon. She’s wearing an explosive vest. It’s a booby trap. I wish you’d come alone. That’s going to be hell for me to clean up. Don’t worry, though, I have a plan.”
Gracie had to swallow over the boulder of anger that had avalanched into her throat. Cee was rigged with explosives? Dusty would have his hands full trying to disarm that device. And she wouldn’t let herself think of any other outcome, but that meant he was out of the plan. Ty was at the house, and she had no idea if someone was guarding him. She also had to assume Dusty hadn’t yet sent Victor the signal.
So she had no weapon. No idea of how many people were working with Layla—though she’d wager a guess the two big guys that had been at her club would probably be here—and she still needed to deal with the psycho on the porch.
Crud. She needed a new plan. Fast.
“Can I get dressed?”
“Yes. Please do. I’m starting to feel self-conscious. You can come the rest of the way to the house. I’m on the porch. I just want to talk.”
Funny. Hysterically funny. “Good. That’s what I want too.”
And to kick your crazy ass.
Chapter 64
Walking through the woods any time of the day, but especially on an overcast night, was a skill. Dusty knew well the minuscule adjustments and awareness a person needed to avoid tripping or getting caught up in brush. He’d learned this from his Uncle Harvey, who’d had a negligent parenting style and a big woodsy property filled with old junk.
Once you’ve tripped over a car bumper in the dark, you learn to look after yourself in those woods. After his overbearing father, it had been a blessing to be alone. Uncle Harvey had understood that. Still, he’d gotten lost many times. Never once scared him, though.
But he was scared now. Adjusting his night vision goggles, he glanced at the small device in the tree. Some kind of drone. It had definitely spotted him. Too bad he needed the battery on his jammer for when he got closer to the house.
Despite himself, he was impressed with Layla. And incredibly freaked out. This was a different kind of war. One built not on knowledge of guns and warfare, but on technology and ones and zeros.
He’d do his best with the skills he had and hope he got close enough to use them to stop that lunatic. Wouldn’t be easy without the benefit of surprise. Stalking forward with a quiet that said he expected her to send the cavalry or at least a big dog or two, he pulled up short when he saw the girl. A girl wearing a helmet. He knew her. Had met her at the house, at dinner. Cee.
He moved forward with cautious strides, scanning the area as he went. No one in the woods. Just the kid. The kid’s helmet had a camera attached to it, and he’d guess some sensors.
As he neared, he noticed something odd about the way she carried herself. “You okay?”
She took a step back. Her lips tightened into a line of determination. “I’m”—she looked down at herself—“strapped with something.”
Good Lord. Kid was rigged with explosives.
Dusty took a deep, steadying breath. He didn’t know a lot about explosives, but a quick look told him that the wires and explosives were hidden inside the vest. Not easy to get at without setting it off.
No wonder Cee shook like a leaf despite the fact that it was as hot as hell. A hell Layla was doomed to spend eternity in.
Through his NVG, Dusty tried to get a better read on the wires and camera attached to her head. Not a timer. Not a wire trigger. Nope. A cell phone on the front said it was set to be remotely detonated.
Cee jolted, and he heard a sound from the helmet. Not Layla’s voice. A man’s voice. Couldn’t make out what he’d said. “We have to leave the woods. Or else. If we get far enough, the device can’t be set off. We don’t have much time.”
So some guy somewhere with an itchy trigger finger was in charge of this mess. Looked like his jammer was going to be needed a bit earlier than he’d intended. First things first. Figure out what kind of a visual this guy had on him. “Okay. You good to run?”
“We can’t run. We have to walk. Or it’ll be set off right away. And you have to walk in front of me. Keep your hands up.”
Okay. He had no choice but to leave these woods, walking. That meant even if he could get far enough away to save Cee, he wouldn’t make it back in time to help Gracie.
He followed her directions, scanning the dark for more of those drone cameras. “No problem. So do you know who’s talking to you?”
“I—I’m not allowed to answer that.”
That cleared up nothing. Fine. If there was one thing he was good at, it was a distracting conversation. “Ain’t it just a nice night for a walk in the woods?”
He heard Cee make a small, pained sound. “I don’t want to die. But if you can save yourself…”
She trailed off. Dusty’s heart filled with an unexpected and heavy weight. This was one brave kid. He shook his head. “That’s a nice offer and all but wouldn’t really be much of a life knowing I abandoned such a fine young person as yourself.”
She sniffed an obviously runny nose. “I should’ve known better. I don’t deserve…”
