Page 68 of Freeing Lark

“What the hell is in it?”

“It’s heavy.”

“Stop complaining and pick it up.”

Another man swore. “Shut up and get the stuff loaded.” The voice belonged to someone who sounded increasingly irritated. “We’re getting off this island before that storm hits.”

Lark’s heart pounded. What stuff? She shifted slightly. Through a gap in the foliage, she caught a glimpse of them, confirming there were indeed four men. They were pulling crates out of the ground and loading them onto a boat tied off nearby. Apparently they’d been back after she’d found the crate piece to bury more boxes.

Things were packed up tight. She couldn’t see what was inside. But she clearly saw the same symbol burned into the crates. Now she could see the complete emblem. The full circle around an old Roman type full-face helmet with slits where the eyes would be. Bisecting the helmet was a spear, pointing up. It was the same as Grant Calloway’s lapel pin.

But there was more. Underneath the symbol were numbers. Each crate had a different set of them. Organized in groupings of three, totaling nine numbers in a line. She was fairly good with numbers and thought they might be helpful. Therefore, she pushed past her fear and memorized a set.

Then, one man spoke, and her stomach tightened. “We came up empty at that stupid artsy store.”

Lark went cold. Her breath caught. The store. Her store. These were the men who’d broken in. They’d been looking for something. Something they hadn’t found.

And now they were here. On the island. Her island. The one where she’d found the crate with the now familiar symbol.

She needed to leave.

“Still can’t believe the boss found that CCTV footage of her carrying that piece of wood,” the shortest of the four said.

“Boss has crazy mad skills,” another said as he wiped sweat from his brow.

A man wearing all black had just dropped a crate into the boat when he said, “Or he has people who have the mad skills.”

“Lucky for us,” Shorty said. “And lucky for us she didn’t know what she’d found. She must have thrown it away, and that’s why we couldn’t find it.”

“You’re the idiot who’d broken that crate,” another scolded. “You’re lucky the boss didn’t kill you for leaving evidence behind.”

So what she’d found had been important. She needed to leave and tell Cormac. Now.

Lark slowly began backing away. But then another voice spoke. “What if she didn’t throw it away? What if she gave it to someone?”

“Yeah. She’s been hanging out with the big guy a lot.” Her stomach flipped. They’d been watching her.

“We’ll find it eventually. Or we’ll force her to tell us where she put it.”

Lark’s blood turned to ice. They were talking about her. She crouched lower. Her mind raced. She couldn’t move. Not now. If they saw her, she had no idea what they’d do.

She needed help. But her phone was in her pocket, and reaching for it felt like an impossible risk. Besides, service was spotty at best. And with the approaching storm, she wasn’t holding out much hope for any bars on her phone.

Maybe she could wait. They’d leave. They had to. The storm was coming. Faster than she’d anticipated. Surely they’d realize that too, and then they’d be gone.

Lark held her breath. Seconds passed. One of the men cursed. Another laughed.

Then a new sound reached her ears. Before she could register what it was, something hard pressed against the back of her head.

Lark froze. Every muscle in her body locked. Her intuition screamed that it was a gun. The thought was quickly replaced by the chilling certainty that she was in serious trouble.

A man’s voice whispered beside her ear. “Well, well.” Lark’s stomach dropped. “What do we have here?”

She closed her eyes. Her mind screamed one word. Cormac.

CHAPTER 21

Something had been eating at Hoot since he’d opened his eyes that morning, and it had nothing to do with the storm. The sky outside the Condor’s Overwatch offices was darkening by the minute, clouds piling over Bell Creek like an army preparing to invade. Rain was expected by afternoon, followed by thunderstorms and heavy winds.